One Party

In Promo by Wiz

In my golden age of growth, it was all about the biggest parties.

And in those parties, you were either the host or the attendee.

If you were the host, you managed to reserve your parent’s house for the night while they were out of town – acquired a couple of kegs, a grassy knoll of Mary Jane, and moved your overpriced stereo system into their elegant living room, ya’dig?

If you were the attendee, you were the one walking up to the front door with a six pack of Modelo and a joint tucked in your ear – knocking in hopes that someone would answer and when they did, hoping a little bit more that you’re familiar enough to be let in for the festivities.

And that shit? Well, it didn’t always happen.

Sometimes, you take one of those chances of going to a well-known house party that’s being hosted by a bunch of obnoxious popular folk and they open the door only to close it in your face so hard that you’ve got blood running out your nose.

And the bitch of it all is most of the time, these people are just like you. They simply love to live in the same perpetual motion of the waves of music that play mosh pit in their abodes – but it’s the stigma of the circle that causes a line in the sand.

In this case, that circle is the Rainbow Party.

And it’s clear that if I were to approach that circle of yours, Vigour, I’d rightfully be an attendee. At the same time, the time in my life where I was a measly knocker has come and gone.

I got my own party in this bitch now.

You may have heard of it? It’s called Jet Set Radio.

And you may not have noticed, being occupied in your perpetual oblivion of terrible club music, but there’s a bit of a turf war going on – and in this neighborhood right here?

There’s only room for one party, ya’feel me?

Now listen – I hate to pop all of those colorful balloons of yours, Vigour – but let’s be real, you really don’t want your skin in this game. And if you think, for even a second, that the other VIPs in your party want to fuck around with a crazy cult, it may favor you to sit down with that Generation kiddo so you can see how he feels about all of it.

I’m willing to bet that he’s kneeling in front of his bed a lot more than ever before.

So help me help you, alright?

Let’s get this My Little Pony Express packed up and we’ll move you to another block where you can perhaps play host to an appropriate atmosphere – where yall’ can play song and dance while the real crew takes care of business ’round these parts.

Because when the heat starts to get too close, your only place of refuge is going to be my house – and we’re at full capacity, buddy.

I’d hate to have a friend of a friend make my front door teach you a lesson. After all, I’m sure that bubble jacket of yours was expensive as shit.

Ain’t no need to stain it up if it isn’t necessary, ya’dig?