When I was in sixth grade or so (back when “Baby Got Back” was just an inkling in Mix-a-Lot’s loins and Swass was the hottest shit around), my friend Matt and I used to call Mix-a-Lot’s agent’s office and pretend to be Matt’s older brother, Scott, who had played on the same 3-on-3 basketball team as Mix. Perhaps our pubescent voices gave us away, or perhaps the star had no interest in reconnecting with his fellow weekend warriors, but for whatever reason, we were never able to get him on the phone.

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