Kevin Rudolf is an adorable young man. The Cash Money Record’s pop-star took me out to lunch, drove me around in his Lambo, introduced me to his model girlfriends, and at around 3 a.m., took me to Cash Money’s studio in North Miami, where he introduced me to Lil Wayne, Birdman, and Mack Maine. “Jason wants to get high as a motherfucker,” Kevin told them. Birdman smiled and went back to the Play Station football game. Lil Wayne walked into a recording booth, picked up a microphone, and shut the glass door.
Kevin picked up my video camera and recorded me asking Mack Maine what I would have to do to get a song featuring Lil Wayne. “First you gotta come through me,” he said, “and I’ll probably smack you in the face, you fucking jerk. If you’re not Kevin Rudolf, or anybody that I shot marbles with, or anyone that Baby or Slim co-signed, then I’ll smack you in the face. It’s the same as when you get initiated into a gang. It’s all love, even though they beat your ass.” Birdman was listening, and from the couch he said, “It costs a lot of money and you gotta get your ass whipped to get into the Lil Wayne gang.”
I told Mack Maine that Lil Wayne’s ESPN blog had given clues to the initiation process, and that I was prepared. “I’m gonna put you on a UFO and bring you to Wayne’s world,” Mack Maine said, “Are you sure you want a verse from Lil Wayne?” I nodded my head, as he turned some knobs on the studio console creating a sick beat. He then told me to rap into the microphone. “Smokin that crack for pussy, smoking that pussy for crack,” I spit. Kevin Rudolf laughed as he recorded it on my video camera for this episode of Prunk TV.
“You really want Wayne on this shit?” Mack Maine suddenly yelled into my face. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and threatened to “gut” me. “I wouldn’t put Wayne on your shit for a million dollars. That is the wackest shit I’ve heard since they said Tupac was dead.” He held the small Swiss Army knife near my stomach. “I just want to get Lil Wayne on that song. I want a hit,” I declared. Mack Maine put the knife back into his pocket. “What kind of drugs are you on?” he yelled, “You gotta get out of the studio now, your rap dreams are over. Get your ass outta here before I gut you, my nigga.”
What happened next was like something out of a Steven Spielberg movie. A Rolls Royce UFO landed in the parking lot.
