Cam'ron, SDE (2000)
S.D.E., which stands for Sports, Drugs and Entertainment is an honorable attempt at an all-purpose rap album. It’s all here; something for the radio, something for the gangsta drug dealer in all of us, and a little something for the ass smacking, pussy bogarding niggas out there.
That’s Me is pretty gangsta in that boastful, I’ve been there and done that kind of way. Whatever is the album’s low point with its flat beat and its “whatever” subject matter. Come Kill Me and What I Gotta Live For are two inventive and different tracks where Cam goes off about life’s low points and those situations that have you wondering. His complex flow breaks things down real compellingly.
Where I’m from is a cut with a crisp underground beat that Killa tears a new one with “Yo, where I’m from they let the cartridge blast, everybody smart in math/ loan sharks with cash running from the narcs and task/ street sergeant craft?/ come on, I start to laugh/ ‘cause I almost caught the case for Rich Parker ass/ now a nigga paid out, suede couch/ I’m in the hooded things, Benz bucket way out/ these cats be Heathcliff, when I come around they play mouse/ Mickey and Minnie, Jerry from Tom, heavy in arms/ in front of Pam Pam, Hanna-Barbera leather/ collar bent, cotton candy blue gates, college men/ y’all in astonishment looking for acknowledgement/ [money] we pour it on ‘em, eat a snitch throw war up on him/ any repercussions make sure my seeds bubble/ if you ain’t hear me on Clue, I said I see double/ guns, double techs/ hoes, double sex/ count and handle my money, but I double check/ bubble Lex, ain’t too much more I care about/ liquor store in the Bronx though, warehouse, cleared out/ els with my liquor, silencer, one hell of a whisper/ gassing up a hoe, tell her you missed her/ dealing with the old timers, was a hell of a listener/ vend or sell if you differ/ nigga pelican slippers/ mami is senseless, get my moula, I'm conscientious/ tell meedas, got off our Benzes, por favor/ Harlem, mama poor/ we fell off, but back on, nigga time to ball/ hundred and 45th and Lenox, three piece suit, bean pies/ final call, gun up in the spinal cord/ I ain’t got no time for y’all/ we 8 digits you play frigid/ Killa don’t cook he blaze biscuits/ around us, straight midgets/ jewels we keep frozen, y’all keep dozing, the wolves in sheep’s clothing/ streets buzzing, V-dozen, bitches callin’ me husband/ saying we fucked when we wasn’t/ lying on her coochie, I’m dying for a hoochie with an iron for a boobie/ casino style, diamonds and a doobie/ but Killa keep running to the timing of a groupie/ but need work, plate of a kind/ if your dope ain’t an 8 or a 9, you wasting my time/ you racing for shine?/ the only way you be around mutherfucking paper boy/ if you quit your job and go be a paper boy/ car swoop up 50, gun shoot buck 50, bear facts buck 50/ Airmax buck 50/ only New York nigga to fuck Whitney/ on her period, blood sticky/ same night flood Missy/ play Toronto like Doug Christie/ fuck Kristy, Louie the 13th / suds with me, gimme head/ yo, Kedo Kentai, blunts in my head/ but my day is Friday, took from my bread/ niggas try to stick together like they Smokey and Craig/ in real life Nia think I’m long and throw me the head/ heard what I said?”
The album’s best song is Losing Weight with Prodigy over a banging Mobb rhythm. Capital P is up to his usual, and Cam rides the beat excellently. Double Up is tough too with Santana dropping a hot line or two. And What Means the World to You got some airplay, deservedly so.
Rating: 7 Gold Teefs, worth a double take.
Buy or Copy: Copy
That’s Me is pretty gangsta in that boastful, I’ve been there and done that kind of way. Whatever is the album’s low point with its flat beat and its “whatever” subject matter. Come Kill Me and What I Gotta Live For are two inventive and different tracks where Cam goes off about life’s low points and those situations that have you wondering. His complex flow breaks things down real compellingly.
Where I’m from is a cut with a crisp underground beat that Killa tears a new one with “Yo, where I’m from they let the cartridge blast, everybody smart in math/ loan sharks with cash running from the narcs and task/ street sergeant craft?/ come on, I start to laugh/ ‘cause I almost caught the case for Rich Parker ass/ now a nigga paid out, suede couch/ I’m in the hooded things, Benz bucket way out/ these cats be Heathcliff, when I come around they play mouse/ Mickey and Minnie, Jerry from Tom, heavy in arms/ in front of Pam Pam, Hanna-Barbera leather/ collar bent, cotton candy blue gates, college men/ y’all in astonishment looking for acknowledgement/ [money] we pour it on ‘em, eat a snitch throw war up on him/ any repercussions make sure my seeds bubble/ if you ain’t hear me on Clue, I said I see double/ guns, double techs/ hoes, double sex/ count and handle my money, but I double check/ bubble Lex, ain’t too much more I care about/ liquor store in the Bronx though, warehouse, cleared out/ els with my liquor, silencer, one hell of a whisper/ gassing up a hoe, tell her you missed her/ dealing with the old timers, was a hell of a listener/ vend or sell if you differ/ nigga pelican slippers/ mami is senseless, get my moula, I'm conscientious/ tell meedas, got off our Benzes, por favor/ Harlem, mama poor/ we fell off, but back on, nigga time to ball/ hundred and 45th and Lenox, three piece suit, bean pies/ final call, gun up in the spinal cord/ I ain’t got no time for y’all/ we 8 digits you play frigid/ Killa don’t cook he blaze biscuits/ around us, straight midgets/ jewels we keep frozen, y’all keep dozing, the wolves in sheep’s clothing/ streets buzzing, V-dozen, bitches callin’ me husband/ saying we fucked when we wasn’t/ lying on her coochie, I’m dying for a hoochie with an iron for a boobie/ casino style, diamonds and a doobie/ but Killa keep running to the timing of a groupie/ but need work, plate of a kind/ if your dope ain’t an 8 or a 9, you wasting my time/ you racing for shine?/ the only way you be around mutherfucking paper boy/ if you quit your job and go be a paper boy/ car swoop up 50, gun shoot buck 50, bear facts buck 50/ Airmax buck 50/ only New York nigga to fuck Whitney/ on her period, blood sticky/ same night flood Missy/ play Toronto like Doug Christie/ fuck Kristy, Louie the 13th / suds with me, gimme head/ yo, Kedo Kentai, blunts in my head/ but my day is Friday, took from my bread/ niggas try to stick together like they Smokey and Craig/ in real life Nia think I’m long and throw me the head/ heard what I said?”
The album’s best song is Losing Weight with Prodigy over a banging Mobb rhythm. Capital P is up to his usual, and Cam rides the beat excellently. Double Up is tough too with Santana dropping a hot line or two. And What Means the World to You got some airplay, deservedly so.
Rating: 7 Gold Teefs, worth a double take.
Buy or Copy: Copy
posted by Sean at 1:29 AM
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