The volume of weed B-Real has smoked over the past 20 years is enough to make you question how the MC has any brain cells left, let alone how he remains coherent. But there he sits, alternately bemoaning and praising the contemporary hip-hop landscape while crumbling fistfuls of sticky O.G. Kush into silken powder. Finally, the Birthday Cake is ready to serve; lighting up all five joints, the slow-burning sticks suffusing the water bottle with staggering amounts of smoke, Real takes an iron-lunged hit, exhales, smiles beatifically, and passes it to the left. Within five minutes, it’s orbited the room, and judging from the swollen silence it’s obvious that the Birthday Cake has gotten us baked.
