Mike Tyson: Undisputed Truth

¶ We have

¶ Say what?

¶ A whole lot of superstars ¶

¶ On this stage here tonight ¶

¶ But I want y'all to know one thing ¶

¶ This is my house

¶ And when I say, "Whose house?" ¶

¶ Y'all know what time it is ¶

¶ Whose house?

¶ Run's house

¶ Once again, my friend, not a trend for then ¶

¶ They said rap was crap, but never had this band ¶

¶ Till the ruler came with a cooler name ¶

¶ Made you dance and prance and drove the fans insane ¶

¶ Name is Run, my son, number one for fun ¶

¶ Not a gun that's done and get done by none ¶

¶ The other act, in fact, is just whack I kill ¶

- ¶ Why? - ¶ It's fun, my son, and Run heads the bill ¶

¶ Whose house?

¶ Run's house.

Nat King Cole: ¶ There was a boy

¶ A very strange, enchanted boy ¶

¶ They say he wandered very far ¶

¶ Very far

¶ Over land and sea

¶ A little shy

¶ And sad of eye

¶ But very wise

¶ Was he

¶ And then one day

¶ A magic day he passed my way ¶

¶ And while we spoke of many things ¶

¶ Fools and kings

¶ This he said to me

¶ The greatest thing

¶ You'll ever learn

¶ Is just to love

¶ And be loved

¶ In return.

Thank you for coming out tonight and welcome to my living room.

This is gonna be interesting.

This is gonna be a fun night, I can see.

I know many of you are probably wondering,

"What the hell is Mike Tyson gonna do

up here onstage tonight," right?

And, frankly, I'm wondering the same thing, too.

As you know, the name of my show is "The Undisputed Truth."

I personally wanted to name it

"Boxing, Bitches, and Lawsuits-- Plus a Baby."

You know?

But my wife and attorney, they absolutely freaked

and I couldn't go that way.

But, you know, life is great.

You know, I really can't complain these days.

I'm just very grateful that life has come full circle for me.

Many of you may remember I'm the guy

that used to knock motherfuckers out in less than 30 seconds.

Thank you.

And I'll knock a motherfucker out tonight, too,

if shit get out of-- I'm kidding.

No, I'm domesticated now with kids.

Lawsuits.

But now I'm here in New York City. My hometown.

At the Imperial Theatre to entertain you all.

I actually did my show here on Broadway last summer for the first time.

Many people thought this was my first time on Broadway, but it wasn't.

I actually got arrested on this same block right here.

Many years ago, though. Many years ago.

I like to say that arrest was one of those defining moments for me.

If I hadn't gotten arrested on that particular night,

I wouldn't have went to that Spofford Juvenile Detention Center.

And if I never went to that detention center,

I would never have met my mentor.

If I never met my mentor, of course,

I would never have been the youngest heavyweight champion

- in the history of boxing. - ( cheering )

That's true.

So I really have to thank

that really nice New York City police officer

that was kind enough to arrest that badass black kid from Brooklyn, of course.

But New York has changed a lot, huh?

Especially this whole Broadway-Times Square area.

Like Disney World up in this motherfucker.

I remember when it looked like a war zone

for drug addicts, pimps, and prostitutes.

You know, Koch was the mayor then, of course.

And I couldn't walk down the street

without a pervert flashing his dick at me

or somebody trying to sell me something.

Wanted that shit and didn't even buy.

And this neighborhood became a prime robbing location

for me and my Brownsville crew.

Brownsville's in this house. I know they have to be.

That'd be fucking real, huh?

I did this show so you'd better understand me, of course.

In my own words.

You may have seen that documentary I did

with my good friend Jim Toback, "Tyson."

We won a few awards and we kicked ass at the Cannes Film Festival.

But to be honest, that was some real dark shit, right?

I was filming it straight out of rehab, so what did you expect?

I still had that stuff in my system

and I'm coming at you full speed ahead.

But tonight, I'm promising to be a lot lighter,

like my personality these days.

And, listen, all jokes aside,

I don't know what you're gonna take away from this experience tonight,

but to simply put it, this is my story.

My mistakes, my heartaches, my joy, my sorrow,

my gift, my life, my undisputed truth.

Let's get this popping.

- ( music playing ) - ( cheering )

This is fun.

We got Red Hook up there. Brooklyn Heights.

Carroll Gardens.

But this is where it all started right here,

June 30, 1966, the day I was born

in Cumberland Hospital in the republic of Brooklyn, New York.

It's the same hospital where ballers Bernard and Albert King were born,

and the legendary Michael Jordan. Right here.

In Fort Greene. Oh, fuck.

This is fucked up.

This is supposed to be me and my mother up here.

Listen, come on,

there's no baby pictures of Mike Tyson floating around,

but God damn, Spike.

You couldn't find a picture of a nice black mother

holding a child?

That's really fucked.

I'm taking it on the chin, guys, okay?

Wow. This is much better.

This is where it really begun.

Right here with this woman, my mother, Lorna May Tyson.

A simple Southern woman from the Charlottesville, Virginia, area

that moved up north and tried to live out her dreams

that never came to form.

I was the youngest of three children.

My brother Rodney and my sister Denise,

they were more like my mother.

I always felt like the odd guy, the black sheep.

Ooh, ooh, ooh. And this guy right here,

this is my father Curly Lee Kirkpatrick.

Wait a minute.

Now, if Curly Kirkpatrick is supposed to be my father,

then who the fuck is this dude on my birth certificate?

This is where the shit gets really tricky, right?

So...

listen to this. My mom said Curly's my dad,

but Percel fucking Tyson is on the birth certificate.

How did this happen? No wonder I'm so fucked up.

Here's the early proof.

I'm still not sure who the hell my father really is.

Curly was the pimp.

You know, Percel was the humble Jamaican cab driver.

A sucker.

I so desperately wanted to be the son of the pimp

because in my neighborhood of Brownsville, that carries weight.

So if Curly really wasn't my father,

him and my mother must have made some deal

that once a year you come around

and show your manhood, show fatherhood.

And this is what he'd do. He'd come around.

He always had a nice Cadillac, of course.

And he'd come around, beep the horn.

Boop, boop.

"Oh, God, Daddy's downstairs. Look at his car, Daddy."

"Get down here, you little motherfuckers!"

And so, of course, we'd get in the car happy, excited,

thinking we're gonna go to some exotic place

like Coney Island.

Or Bear Mountain.

But, you know, that was some good shit when you're broke back in the day.

That was some real good shit, right? Especially from Brownsville.

Don't be talking like y'all are some fly niggas all your life.

You know, it's like going to Paris.

But anyway, right...

to our sad surprise, five minutes later,

he'd go around the block, he drops us back off.

Five dollars richer, of course.

I don't know why we thought each year would be different.

You know, I really don't know much about my mother.

I remember her drinking a lot and always angry

and fighting.

I knew she had dreams of becoming a schoolteacher.

But then she met my father--

well, the man I was told was my father.

The fast-talking, cool-dressing pimp

who I always credited with changing the path of my mother's life.

And before long, she was caught up in the street life.

But she paid the heavy toll

because at heart she really wasn't that girl at all.

So she drank to cover up the pain.

And I suppose my addictions started here with her.

See, I was born with the addictive gene

and it still haunts me to this day.

Ready to creep up on me in my darkest night.

Ready to rob me of my brightest day.

You know, this is the only picture I have of my mother, Lorna May.

But it's a good one.

She seemed like she must have been happy that day.