Growing up in the ghetto is pretty hard. It's poverty; it's frustration.

Who's coming with me? I don't know where I'm going, but who's coming with me?

Being funny wasn't a career choice growing up, it was my way out of situations; a way to survive another day.

My life growing up was a twisted Bronx version of 'The Color Purple.' It had a much different soundtrack and no trees, but that desperation was the same.

People wouldn't hire me for comedies. They would say, 'Oh, he doesn't do comedy,' and now it's really all I do.

Obviously, when you do something with drama and comedy in it - and by that, I mean a scene that has drama and comedy in it - you know the minute you introduce music, you're either scoring the drama or you're scoring the comedy, and therefore the scene becomes either dramatic or comedic.

If you don't like the people, you're just doing a sketch. Which, in most cases, is comedy minus some emotional backbone.

I have this horrible sense of humor where I think discomfort is funny - partly because I experience discomfort a lot, and it's a way of laughing at it and getting a release.