The dope bitches in question intentionally remain anonymous so as to protect their identities when expounding upon the underlying differences separating dopeness from basicness. Rick Ross, William Leonard Roberts II to his sophisticated confidants, enlists one so esteemed to sit enraptured before the fay nymphs as they explain the process of hiring the basic class to perform tasks unbefitting the dope class. Basics, they say, primarily follow closely behind dopes collecting the brimming money that falls from their pockets – something the motorcycle riding moneyman from the Geico commercials should look into.
With an open and empathetic mind, William’s flack of the highest order listens on intently, scarcely uttering a word. When he does speak, he assuages the dope bitches’ haughty insecurities with understanding and reassurance. “I ain’t been nervous in a minute,” he says at one point. “I hope it’s Belaire Rose,” he says later on in nonjudgmental response to the dope bitches’ shameful admission that they wash their hair with champagne.
The significance of the Belaire Rose verse dignifies closer analysis. For, herein lays a window into the keenest marketing mastermind this side of the Old Spice commercial creators.
In 2013, William signed on with Sovereign Brands, the company that brought you Armand de Brignac (i.e. Ace of Spades), as ambassador to Belaire. The pink hued sparkling wine retails for a reasonable $30.00, but William knows the danger of being perceived as a basic bitch once you’ve already established yourself as a dope bitch. There’s no going back stepping. Dope or die. DOD!
The dope ladies in the sketch speak of Fendi furs and Hermes Birkins, worldly possessions both otherworldly and unattainable to 99% of Earth’s persons. By associating Belaire and his hand selected Black Bottle Boys entourage with this level of dopeness, he’s paving the way for nightclubs to sell his product at a completely insane, yet sadly (for humanity) market-bearing premium.
A few clubs already have Belaire listed on their bottle service menu, amongst the Krugs and Perrier Jouets, for close to $200. Not too shabs Mr. Roberts II. And quite honestly, for those interested in the whole bottle service scene, be thankful a bottle under $300 has finally made the menu. Just don’t be surprised if, in the next year, it sets you back the same amount as a Nebuchadnezzar of Armand De Brignac.
“Dope Bitch Skit” transcription (listen with Spotify):
Girl 1: I love a Daytona rose gold Rolex, the black face, a good Fendi fur, some Tom Ford thigh highs and a crocodile Birkin. I’m set. I’m not basic right here.
Guy: Not Basic?
Girl 2: No basics.
Girl 1: Nah, no basic bitches allowed.
Guy: Why? What they do?
Girl 1: Basic bitches make me nervous.
Girl 2: Yes.
Girl 1: They make me nervous. You wanna impress? Here, I’m gon’ show you. If you’re a boss, this stack right here falls out of your pocket, you don’t even got time to pick it up.
Girl 2: You keep walking.
Girl 1: You don’t got time. You keep going. It’s not even worth your time.
Girl 2: Your minutes cost more than the stack.
Girl 1: Keep it moving.
Girl 1: Keep it fresh.
Girl 2: Keep it fresh. Keep it money baby. All day.
Girl 1: It’s our money dance. I have my basic bitches pick up my money for me.
Guy: Word. Word.
Girl 1: I pay my basic bitches to pick up my money for me.
Guy: All right, that’s cool.
Girl 1: I tell ‘em keep it. Buy something nice.
Girl 2: I heard *Rave is having a sale.
Girl 1: Yes.
Girl 2: You know the real boss bitches though? Call up George Condo. Make me a fucking one-of-a-kind.
Guy: One of ones.
Girl 1: One of one.
Guy: How much was it?
Girl 1: Priceless, baby.
Guy: Priceless. So, what’s a typical shopping day for ya’ll? How much, like on a tab?
Girl 1: Typical shop…it’s never typical with me. It depends what kind of mood I’m in that day.
Guy: You in the mood to shop.
Girl 1: I’m in the mood to shop?
Girl 1: Can’t put a price on it.
Girl 2: She doesn’t wanna make you nervous.
Guy: I don’t think she can.
Girl 1: I don’t wanna make you nervous, baby. I don’t wanna make you nervous.
Guy: I ain’t been nervous in a minute. It’s been a while.
Girl 1: You sure? You’re not nervous right now?
Guy: Do I look nervous? I’m relaxed.
Girl 1: Yeah?
Guy: I’m so relaxed. I’m probably too relaxed.
Girl 2: You’re relaxed. Let’s make him a little nervous.
Girl 1: How we gonna make you nervous?
Girl 2: Give him my number.
Guy: I don’t think ya’ll can.
Girl 1: You sure? My shoes don’t make you nervous?
Guy: Not at all.
Girl 1: Are you sure? My wrists?
Guy: No, that’s a nice wrist.
Girl 1: How ‘bout my earrings? They make you nervous?
Girl 1: No? My weave make you nervous?
Girl 2: You wanna know what basic bitches do? They wash their hair with shampoo. You know what we wash our hair with?
Girl 1: I wash my hair with fucking champagne, baby.
Girl 2: All Day.
Girl 1: Champagne.
Girl 2: All day.
Guy: I hope it’s Belaire Rose.
Girl 1: I bathe in Belaire Rose. I have people wash me in Belaire Rose. People fucking throw rose petals at me when I walk by. Belaire Rose.
Guy: Why they do that?
Girl 1: I’m a fucking boss. Uh (Girl 2: Uh). Was that good? How was that? Uh (laughing).
Girl 2: I can’t take life (laughing).
Girl 1: Was that good?
Girl 2: All right, but there really is a lot of money on the floor. What is that?
*Rave: An out-of-business teenybopper equivalent of Forever21, Wet Seal or Charlotte Russe.
Daytona Rose Gold Rolex with the Black Face
Tom Ford thigh highs
Lot 41 George Condo – The Manhattan Strip Club, 2010. – Sold $1,314,500
Luc Belaire Rose