WHO ARE THESE GUYS? That's my first reaction when the "original Chinatown bad boys" leap onto a Manhattan stage to the strains of Duran Duran's "Notorious."

All three have on leather jackets, shades, very tight black jeans, and Adidas Campus kicks. They strike Run DMC poses, but the look is vintage Ramones, from the big hair of drummer Hunan Bomb and D.J. Down Lo-Mein to the bowl cut of the group's "lingleader," Hong Kong Fever. At this point, I'm not sure if I'm about to watch a comedy routine or a hip-hop act—and I never really find out for sure.

Right off, they launch into "Straight Outta Canton," a single off their 2004 EP, Die Hungry. The mostly Asian crowd at Manhattan's Cutting Room is digging the "deep-fried" beats, bopping their heads knowingly to lines like, "Comin' fresh off the boat / livin' on the street / We're marching to our own beat / Don't give a damn what other people eat / We're crazy / Just give me duck sauce and a bowl of chicken feet."

So far, a pretty credible send-up of the Beastie Boys, who started out as a parody of nerdy-ass white boys trying to act black, but my Asian brothers take it a notch higher—aping the swaggering sexuality of Snoop Dogg, bragging about their giant egg rolls and slaying other M.C.'s ("MSG with the hot track / Lyrical Ginsu / cutting off your nut sack"), checking out the honeys in the audience.

While it's certainly a rare thrill to see Asian men flaunt their masculinity, I can't help but giggle at the leering, over-the-top display of Mongolian beefcake. Maybe it's even a schoolgirl giggle.

I have to admit I find Hong Kong Fever kind of hot. He's got a ripped physique and Mick Jagger's strut, so why does he still come across as a randy Pekingese humping my leg? It must the voice—an impeccable Yan Can Cook accent that he uses to great effect during the comedy skits between songs, like the cell-phone prelude to his "Dim Sum Girl" doo-wop serenade.

It's this brand of "Chinatown mayhem" that's earned The Notorious MSG a growing fan base (and more than 28,000 hits on their MySpace page). For an unsigned bandl, they've generated plenty of coast-to-coast buzz—among Asian American college students, non-Asian hipsters and bemused rap fans—through notoriousmsg.com and club gigs. This year, they released a single and video, "Chinatown Hustler," that's been getting regular play on MTV Chi. With a second album set to drop this fall, they're also attracting mainstream attention—from the New York weeklies to the BBC.

"YELLOWFACE" VAUDEVILLE?

Formed in 2003, the group has the shtick down pat. Catchy hip-hop interspersed with boy-band dance moves, campy references (decidedly non-gangsta covers of Kenny Loggins' "Footloose" or Huey Lewis and the News' "Power of Love") and lots of costume changes (Adidas track suits, Chinese restaurant uniforms). At times, the comedy veers dangerously close to "yellowface" vaudeville, but the group members make no apologies for their gleeful re-appropriation of Asian stereotypes.

"We are celebrating all the things that come with being Asian," says Hong Kong Fever, emphasizing every consonant. "We are entertainers. We want people to have a good time at the shows. Sometimes it is funny, but there is a lot of truth in that, too. We don't feel there is anything wrong laughing."

Down Lo-Mein—a.k.a. D-Lo, the Yello Gigolo—adds, "We do not want to preach. We not trying to shove it down your throat. We trying to go around the back way and shove it up your boothole and make it vibrate."

THE MSG MYSTIQUE

The trio—who claim to have arrived in the U.S. "on a boat" in 1993—remain cagey about their (suburban?) backgrounds. In past interviews, D-Lo has floated a tale about his grandparents running a brothel in Taiwan, while the Hunan Bomb has claimed to be a pit fighter in South Korea.

"We cannot go into detail about the circumstances of our coming over here," says Hong Kong Fever. "We all had to do some things we are not proud of. So we all came here to turn over a new leaf, a new tea leaf."

According to lore, the members first met while slaving away in New York's Chinatown restaurants, as busboys, cooks, and deliverymen. They say an original member, Funky Buddha, was gunned down while making a food delivery (one TV station reported this as fact last October, but forgive us for remaining skeptical).