Joe and Jada - Mike Epps tells WILD Jay-Z & DMX stories, talks Dave Chappelle & top 5 standups

You know what it is, the Joe and Jada show—legendary every time, iconic every time, and today we got family; the biggest in the game, our brother Mike Epps.

I’m here, and I’m coming in talking my talk—joking about that age‑rewind hair product, then straight to how we grew up when the sun hit different, your pops’ one whistle could clear a block, and if you missed dinner you really missed it.

Our bodega Ernie had the dirtiest ears and the best sausage with onions; two dollars at the supermarket got you rice, chicken, bread, milk, even a pack of smokes back then, and the laundromat payday with those Entenmann’s was a holiday.

My pops was cheap and proud—he’d hand you a plastic bomber instead of leather and think you fly, and that little pain is why I care about clothes now.

You know the sneaker store pain—there’s the wall you can’t touch, so how’d that shape you?

Being boxed into the cheap rack made me mad, and watching the block worship dealers taught me how fast folks switch on you, which is why with cameras everywhere the street game is a fool’s errand now.

What’s it like for you being a comedian, and talk to me about those early New York runs.

I was grinding at Jimmy’s Bronx Cafe and the Sugar Shack with Tracy Morgan in a little Mazda, hitting S.O.’s and dingy Co‑op City spots, living in the Bronx and learning quick how a girl could walk you through a hundred dudes in the projects like it’s nothing.

Yo Joe, biggest artist you worked with?

I ran with Hov, Nas, Em, Kiss, and J.Lo, and one time she iced out a whole first‑class flight and put Burger King on every seat just because I said that was my favorite—she blew the bag for real.

The old comedy era wanted wild takes; now they try to cancel jokes, but we gotta laugh at ourselves.

The pimp stories were everywhere—Hunts Point, San Francisco—and when you see the brainwashing and fear, you get why the law hits those guys with heavy time.

Stand‑up is a one‑man band and cutthroat; it’s dark until the checks and therapy hit, and too many comics don’t make it because that pressure is real.

I’ve seen the dark too; a promoter pulled a cannon for my second half in a packed club, shots rang out, they locked the gates on the crowd, and the next day security brought my money after the spot got shut down.

We on year three of the tour—DC Young Fly, Carlos Miller, Mojo Brooks, we’ve had Duval and Country Wayne, and this year I’m not just hosting, I’m closing like the OG.

Joke theft is everywhere; a big name often hears it from a smaller comic who stole it first, and that’s like the streets—what you take comes back around.

Fathers and families shape you; missing a dad makes some of the strongest people, my wife’s proof—she’s resilient and keeps me chasing peace over beef.

I’ve got a Kenya Barris show on the way, the Upshaws coming back on Netflix, and a big Kevin Hart movie; I moved to New York in ’91 with nothing, learned the Timbs and the clubs, rode trains for a decade, and was a ghost before people noticed.

Sometimes I wish my kids could live a week of how we grew up; they’d come back humble.

You can’t explain it to them, but I’m glad we can give them more, and yes—go get those tickets for the tour.

About podcasts, y’all got the peanut‑butter‑and‑jelly mix that works; the game’s crowded and a lot of folks are Milli Vanilli with no real skin in hip‑hop, but Joe and Kiss are shaking the room, even Stephen A. felt it.

He pulled up and tried to son me on my own show, which only proved we’re hot.

Some dudes can’t even come outside, their security be extra for no reason, and then there was DMX—he could snatch a chain at a gas station, flip to ‘yes ma’am’ a minute later, and still destroy a stage.

If you want calm at an event, call the Nation of Islam; they neutralize chaos with respect like nobody else.

We used to swim, lose a spades game, and the loser had to hit the bodega and steal the whole list—chips, Chef Boyardee, even ice cream in front of the freezer man—and if they caught you, you got a whooping, not a case.

T La Rock still shops my store and drops real money, and by the way your guys once sold Kiss the wrong‑size Timbs just to hit a quota—y’all flipped the box and everything had the same number.

Asked if fame changed the dating game, I said nah, I always moved like I was that guy. Since way back I wore Fat Joe with pride, had people heated because I pulled bad ones, rode through the Bronx shirtless with chains, never timid, and that Verzuz moment felt like overdue payback after all that pressure around Puff.

Joked that folks will start hitting animals with that shot just to make them skinny.

I call that drug a real transformer because I know cases where extra weight oddly kept people alive, and now the shot helps them drop pounds. Make it affordable so more people can actually live longer.

Then I tied it to habits and policy, saying stamps became a trap that feeds junk and dulls ambition, even though some truly need the help and I used it when times were rough.

I pictured if a kid from the projects like Jay Z stayed content on stamps, then kept it real about relatives who only want Section 8 because responsibility is scary. Health, water, and discipline at home are linked to winning in business.

We got loud and playful at the end, told folks to clean up and make some noise, and left it on a rowdy note.