What’s it like to be on call 24/7 as the personal assistant for Memphis hip-hop titans Three 6 Mafia? Blender investigates.
"No shit!” he says. “I love those guys. Hang on, let me see what I got.” Five minutes and $50 later, he comes through with two bottles of cool, sparkling “Cristalino.” Success! I sleep the sleep of the content.
At 8:30 the next morning, Juicy descends on the hotel lobby looking rock-star fresh in Gucci shades and a psychedelic Santana shirt. “Time to drink!” he exclaims. I pour him a glass of champagne, thumb strategically positioned over the “ino” on the label. “Mmm, that’s good shit.” Paul, meanwhile, isn’t feeling quite so festive. He waves off his drink with a grumble. “You should’ve brought glazed doughnuts.”
Today begins with a visit to Sirius Satellite Radio for a round of interviews. At the first, Paul sets his sights on a cute intern. “Hey,
Blender dude,” he whispers. “Go get her number for me.” Over at Eminem’s channel, Shade 45, Juicy enjoys a bottle of Grey Goose and holds forth on his own romantic ambitions. “I want to have Amy Winehouse’s crack babies!” he enthuses. Then a few minutes later, apropos of nothing: “I’m fuckin’ drunk!” Soon he hands me a king-size cup of Red Bull and vodka. “Drink up, playa!” It’s 10:36 a.m. So much for “always remain professional.”
Sufficiently lubricated, Three 6 head to their record company’s headquarters for some meetings with the top brass. On the way, Juicy and a label rep discuss the group’s new single. It seems the song—a crunked-out celebration of oral sex called “I’d Rather”—isn’t catching on at radio the way they’d hoped. “Only 600 spins?” Juicy asks. “We should be pushing 3,000! What the fuck are y’all doing over there?” I consider suggesting that the lack of radio play might have less to do with the failings of the Columbia promotional department and more to do with the fact that the hook is: “I love having sex, but I’d rather get some head/But I’d rather get some head/But I’d rather get some head.” But they probably don’t need career advice from a half-drunk flunky who doesn’t even have a BlackBerry.
After lunch (White Castle) and a quick afternoon nap, the guys sit down to make a list of everything they want me to do this afternoon. “We don’t really have assistants,” Juicy says. “We handle our own bank accounts, make our own reservations. We’re pretty independent.” And indeed, it’s soon apparent that their ideal employee is an cross between a sugar daddy, a feudal serf and that kid in elementary school who’d eat anything for a dollar. To wit:
“I command you to go to the Louis Vuitton store and buy me the most expensive underwear they have.”
Or: “I command you to tie your shoes together and run naked through Times Square.”
Or: “I command you to eat a pigeon.”
Couldn’t I just shine your shoes? I wonder. Or even pee on something?Eventually we settle on a task that’s neither illegal nor pigeon-related. Tonight the guys are hosting a listening session for their new album,
Last 2 Walk, and they need someone to run to the liquor store for refreshments—two bottles of white Zinfandel for Juicy (“I call it my pink ooze,” he says) and “a big-ass thing of vodka” for Paul. Juicy fishes in his pocket and reluctantly forks over a $20. “Don’t forget my change,” he warns. Later, he sends me out for pepperoni pizza. “But pick off the pepperonis. I don’t eat meat.” (Bonus: free pepperonis!)
While Juicy works the room, Paul spins tracks from the new album: the aforementioned “I’d Rather,” next single “Lolli Lolli (Pop That Body),” dope-boy anthem “Weed Blow Pills.” (“Personally, I’ve never sold weed, blow and pills,” he admits later. “But I can’t be telling niggas to buy car insurance or start a self-employment pension, you know? This is entertainment.”) He eyes Juicy’s pizza enviously. “I thought I asked for doughnuts!”