40 40s 4 40 V: Older, Wiser, Phatter
"My niggas should be accurate, have to get, the Forties so immaculate."
---Busta Rhymes
Do you remember your first sip? The room was dark and crowded and loud. Only seconds before what had been a normal college party was suddenly filled with the strange chatter of people who were almost drunk and needed just one more special drink to get them really, really throwed. And then there was an orchestra, and big bass drums, and suddenly a refrigerator door burst open, casting it's heavenly glow on the screaming masses. And then from the misty chamber you retrieved your golden treasure and held it above your head as you squirmed through a pack of sweaty, horny underclassmen. And then, right as the trumpets and funky beat gave way to a heavy bassline and the words, seemingly spoken by Isaac Hays, "Dogg pound!" -- you twisted off the cap and tipped your head back and, God, did it taste stank. Do you remember?
Yes. It's back. The immaculate 40s Fridge. 76 bottles of malt liquor. Bass-heavy syzrp flowing from the speakers. A living room full of fine-dime brizzles making it clap. The theme from "2001: A Space Odyssey."
Forty Forties for Forty People 5: Older, Wiser, Phatter. Straight up gangsta.
Roll out the red carpet for these bitch-asses, hailin' from the filthy Dirty South, where the kings lay. After years of rumors, Rockhard Cox has finally put the dubs in motion to get this real deal bitch rolling again: Saturday, January 15, 2005. 1111 E. 31st St., just across the street from Star Seed's Sell-out Diner, the fucking fridge pops at midnight.
It ain't nuttin' but a gangsta party, so break out the champagne glasses and the mothafuckin' condoms.
A lot has changed since the Platinum 15103 Boyz first brought you a bunch of white kids getting too crunk and backing it up in a shitty pre-fab college apartment. Now we been in the game for years -- ever since hunnies was wearing Sassoon -- but we had to go on the down low for a bit. Didn't wanna get played out, ya heard? Also didn't want to do a nickel in the joint, which was where we were heading if La Casita had imploded under the weight of 40 40s IV.
But the party's still bumpin' like always: keg beer, gas can punch, and your own special reserves to start the night. Then, the fridge. Then, a little bump and grind. But now those wide-eyed college underclassmen who, when they dreamed up this borderline racist adventure, believed this would be the party that finally got them laid know better. So it's all good, we're just asking, if you feel you've got the biggest one, then, mama, come shake your ass.
Kiss the rings, bitch,
---The Wright Cox
p.s. Many thanks to Justin's friends Andrea and Isaac for hosting the party. We'll need some helpers to clean up their place the morning after so they can start moving in. And for those of you thinking of coming, don't bring your friends unless we know them (or unless they're grade-A hoochies). I have a feeling this is going to be too big for us to handle even after all these years. Woo boy, I can't wait.
---Busta Rhymes
Do you remember your first sip? The room was dark and crowded and loud. Only seconds before what had been a normal college party was suddenly filled with the strange chatter of people who were almost drunk and needed just one more special drink to get them really, really throwed. And then there was an orchestra, and big bass drums, and suddenly a refrigerator door burst open, casting it's heavenly glow on the screaming masses. And then from the misty chamber you retrieved your golden treasure and held it above your head as you squirmed through a pack of sweaty, horny underclassmen. And then, right as the trumpets and funky beat gave way to a heavy bassline and the words, seemingly spoken by Isaac Hays, "Dogg pound!" -- you twisted off the cap and tipped your head back and, God, did it taste stank. Do you remember?
Yes. It's back. The immaculate 40s Fridge. 76 bottles of malt liquor. Bass-heavy syzrp flowing from the speakers. A living room full of fine-dime brizzles making it clap. The theme from "2001: A Space Odyssey."
Forty Forties for Forty People 5: Older, Wiser, Phatter. Straight up gangsta.
Roll out the red carpet for these bitch-asses, hailin' from the filthy Dirty South, where the kings lay. After years of rumors, Rockhard Cox has finally put the dubs in motion to get this real deal bitch rolling again: Saturday, January 15, 2005. 1111 E. 31st St., just across the street from Star Seed's Sell-out Diner, the fucking fridge pops at midnight.
It ain't nuttin' but a gangsta party, so break out the champagne glasses and the mothafuckin' condoms.
A lot has changed since the Platinum 15103 Boyz first brought you a bunch of white kids getting too crunk and backing it up in a shitty pre-fab college apartment. Now we been in the game for years -- ever since hunnies was wearing Sassoon -- but we had to go on the down low for a bit. Didn't wanna get played out, ya heard? Also didn't want to do a nickel in the joint, which was where we were heading if La Casita had imploded under the weight of 40 40s IV.
But the party's still bumpin' like always: keg beer, gas can punch, and your own special reserves to start the night. Then, the fridge. Then, a little bump and grind. But now those wide-eyed college underclassmen who, when they dreamed up this borderline racist adventure, believed this would be the party that finally got them laid know better. So it's all good, we're just asking, if you feel you've got the biggest one, then, mama, come shake your ass.
Kiss the rings, bitch,
---The Wright Cox
p.s. Many thanks to Justin's friends Andrea and Isaac for hosting the party. We'll need some helpers to clean up their place the morning after so they can start moving in. And for those of you thinking of coming, don't bring your friends unless we know them (or unless they're grade-A hoochies). I have a feeling this is going to be too big for us to handle even after all these years. Woo boy, I can't wait.
posted by Matt at 9:43 PM
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