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THE elevator to the FUBU corporate headquarters on the 66th floor of the Empire State Building moves so fast that the ride is over before you realize how high you have climbed. But as soon as the doors open, the significance of the journey is immediately apparent.

In this high-rise bastion of lily-White stodginess, hip-hop tunes spill out of FUBU's mahogany and black marble offices and into the hallway. Within the company's expansive maze of corridors and offices, baby-faced executives wearing baggy jeans, bubble jackets and big-lace sneakers fill million-dollar orders, and four similarly dressed 29-year-old Brothers run the show.

Some have called the story of how Damon John, J. Alexander Martin, Keith Perrin and Carl Brown went from hawking tie-top hats on New York City street corners to heading a global fashion empire "the classic rags-to-riches tale." But it's much more than that. It is in fact a story unparalleled in modern fashion history, and one that holds its own with any business success of the late '90s.

Seven years ago, FUBU was little more than a street hustle. Last year, the company raked in $350 million with a line of 500 garments in more than 5,000 stores in 15 countries. "We all thought we'd have a company and work," says Alexander, who serves as vice president. "But not have a compan-e-e. I spell that with two e's. To take nothing and turn it into something, and to be at this point in our lives where we can sit back and see all the things that we have accomplished feels really good."

Selling everything from jeans to watches to pajamas, FUBU has infiltrated the 'hood, Hoboken, Hong Kong, and every place in-between. Now the company is on the cusp of becoming what few corporations ever become--a household name, and perhaps even a lifestyle.

Leading the charge are the four Brothers from Queens who are looking to overthrow Hilfiger, Lauren and the other European fashion kingpins who have long held the world captive under their thimbled thumbs. "A lot of designers feel like their ideas can change the world," says John, FUBU's president. "One designer who is really in love with fashion won't take the advice of anybody else. His mind-set is, `I want to make this, and that's it, and everybody's going to love it.' That's not the way run our business. It's a `majority roles' situation and we listen to our consumers in regard to what they want. And besides, we live a fairly normal life and we know what we like when it comes to fashion. We might be a little off sometimes, but our little off is better than the other guy's best."

Confident talk from a guy who was once a waiter at Red Lobster. In 1992, while waiting tables at the seafood restaurant, John began to make extra money by making tie-top hats. Carl would cut the simple squares of fabric, and John and the other guys would sell them at concerts, sporting events or anywhere there was a group of Brothers. One day, they sold $800 worth of hats and knew they were on to something.

The name FUBU--an acronym meaning "For Us By Us"--was created one day while the guys were just sitting around kicking it. "When we were making the hats, a lot of people were making those same hats. So we figured, what can we do to make ours different? So we decided to put a name on it," John says. "We wanted to come up with an acronym meaning something. It had to be a name, a name that you hadn't heard before, but a name that you would definitely remember. You didn't know if it was Italian or Japanese or American. So that's how we came up with the name."

It was Martin, then a student at New York's Fashion Institute of Technology, who persuaded the guys to make a variety of other garments in addition to the hats.

The group's first break came in 1993 when they convinced rapper L.L. Cool J., a neighborhood acquaintance John had known since high school, to wear FUBU garments on a magazine photo shoot. Then other rappers, like Brand Nubian, began to wear FUBU clothes in videos and at concerts.

After becoming aware of the street acceptance of their creations, the four founders flew to a garment trade show in Las Vegas in 1994 in hopes of snagging a retail account. With no money to purchase a booth, they handed out postcards that invited buyers to come to their hotel room a few miles outside the city to see their garments, which consisted of several embroidered and screen-printed T-shirts, a few sweatshirts and polo-style fleece tops.

When the trade show ended, they had written $300,000 in orders. "Booking turned out to be the easy part," Martin says. "But it was an ordeal to make those 15 pieces. Now we had to make 20,000 to 30,000 pieces, and we had no idea how we were going to do it."

Money was the first thing they knew they needed. John took out a second mortgage on his two-story home, and turned the first floor into a factory assembly line. "We had these ladies come in and cut and sew fabric all day long," John says. "At the same time, we took out an ad in the New York Times. It said: `Million dollars in orders. Need finances.'"

For the next six months, the four founders received a crash course in running a clothing factory. "We would bum fabrics in the backyard," Perrin says. "We had big dumpsters back there. We broke every fire code there was."

Meanwhile, about 20 companies answered FUBU's ad seeking funding. The best deal came from Samsung America, one of the word's largest distributors. "That was in 1995. It took about two more years for everybody to know us," John says. "Once we started working with Samsung, and we were on that level, retailers knew we were for real."

One retailer that took the four seriously was Macy's, which saw FUBU as a chance to tap into the urban mens-wear market which, at the time, was dominated by local "street" stores. In 1996, FUBU became the first African American designer to have its own display window in Macy's famed New York City store.

For the first four years, Brown says they pumped virtually every penny they made back into the business. "We'd just do it and wouldn't even notice that we were working for no money," he says. "After a while it was just fun. We were going to expos, We were flying around. We were consumed trying to make our dream a reality. We were caught up in it so much, it just wasn't an option to stop. You worked so hard at it because you wanted it to become something."

What FUBU has become is a fashion statement that crossed every social, economic and geographic boundary, and shattered the myth that Black designers don't sell well outside of the 'hood. In fact, White suburban teenagers are now one of the company's fastest growing consumer segments. "We're not necessarily chasing that dollar," John says. "But if they want to support us, then we appreciate it."

FUBU's tremendous success has only intensified the work schedule for the four founders. Their typical day now consists of arriving at the office by 10 a.m., making their rounds to a dozen or so meetings with manufacturers, sales teams, the public relations staff and licensees. "in one day, we make about 100 different decisions," John says. "We get calls from stylists for videos and photo shoots, will have people bringing in new fabrics. We're really busy until 5 or 6 o'clock."

After work, they usually have dinner with a client, friend or industry person, then it's time to hit New York City's party circuit to network and keep in touch with the latest trends. "You're lucky to get home by 2 a.m.," John says. "Then the weekend is usually spent flying to either a charity event or to visit a store."

For FUBU, the possibilities are endless. In addition to rolling out new product lines, like footwear, eyewear, swimwear, loungewear and a stat collection, the company plans to open 30 FUBU stores in the fall, and about 100 worldwide in the next five years. The first in the United States is planned for New York City. Then there's the FUBU perfume, the new line of FUBU NBA apparel, the FUBU racing team, and even talk of FUBU entertainment ventures.

While Brown is the only founder who is married, three of them have children. They all hope to eventually pass the business on to their offspring. In the meantime, they say, they will remain the same guys they've always been. "Our company has changed, but we're the same people," John says. "We are not necessarily doing this for money, but for the independence, to be able to choose our own destiny. A lot of people have jobs that they have to go to but don't necessarily love, or even like. So to get up every day and be inspired to go to work is a blessing."