I got tiger blood man. Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs.

When friends asked me, Can we help? I'd say, Not unless you can alter time, speed up the harvest or teleport me off this rock. I used that line from Star Wars.

I've always been a little skittish about death. On certain days I'm okay with it. On other days it's like, "Really? I have to? No, man, not me."

Boom, crush. Night, losers. Winning, duh.

There was this one time in Vegas when I took four Victoria's Secret models and did one gram off each of their bodies within, like, 45 minutes. I declared myself King of Vegas and decided to remodel my hotel room with my bare hands to resemble King Louis XIV's bedroom at Versailles. Knocked down two entire walls, and later had four knuckle surgeries. Still wasn't as high as Rob Ford.

Early on, I used to think it was really cool and macho to jump out of the car and tackle the bad guy. But then when you see the stunts in the movie, you realize it could've been a lady in a poncho.

The truth is for suckers, Johnny Boy!