“OK. What’s it say on the cover?” “Uhhmm,” I said, confused, “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?” “Right. And who’s the Fresh Prince?” Quincy barked. “Me,” I said. “EXACTLY! Don’t nobody know what the fuck you’re supposed to say better than you. If they could do what you do, they wouldn’t have hired you. You say what you wanna say, the way you wanna say it. And when somebody has a problem with it, tell ’em to call me.”
