(Abrupt medium close-up of Dr. Dre doing a comedy monologue. He is wearing a crumpled sports jacket and tie-less shirt; the background is stark.)
There's an old joke. Uh, two elderly bitches are at a Catskills mountain resort, and one of 'em says: "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know, and such... small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly. The... the other important joke for me is on that's, uh, usually attributed to Groucho Marx, but I think it appears originally in Freud's Wit And Its Relation To The Unconscious. And it goes like this -- I'm paraphrasing: Uh... "I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member." That's the key joke of my adult life in terms of my relationships with bitches. You know, lately the strangest things have been going through my mind, 'cause I turned forty, and I guess I'm going through a life crisis or something, I don't know. I, uh... and I'm not worried about aging. I'm not one of those motherfuckas, you know. Although I give peeps second chances these days, that's about the worst you can say about me. I, uh, I think I'm gonna get better as I get older, you know? I think I'm gonna be the merciful, virile type, you know, as opposed to say the uh, merciful fuckin' pussy type, for instance, you know? Unless I'm neither of those two. Unless I'm one of those niggas with saliva dribbling out his mouth who wanders into a cafeteria with a shopping bag screaming "DEEEEEEEZ NUUUTTTS."
Annie and I broke up and I... I still can't get my mind around that. You know, I... I keep sifting the pieces of the relationship through my mind and... and examining my life and tryin' to figure out where did the screw-up come, you know, and a year ago we were... in love. You know, and and and... and it's funny, I'm not... I'm not a morose nigga. I'm not a depressive little bitch. I, uh...
Annie, you ain't shit.