But describing Cam as a"outsider" genius or rap's closeted clown prince means he often doesn't receive any serious attention. Look close: what Cam spits unravels the mind. His rhymes blend surrealist metaphors and dense allusion with self-consciously humorous braggadacio and sophisticated storytelling. But the most fascinating aspects are those that seem not-that-smart. Cam is often purposefully ambiguous or contradictory, mystifying critics and impugning his straightforward radio songs. But this is really what separates Cam from similarly derided yet underrated rappers like Young Dro. Check "Wet Wipes," from Killa Season, where Mr. Giles takes us through what has to be a typical night out for him, bracketed by his coquetry with a portly young lady that Cam wants to fuck in unknowable ways--but which, due to Cam's impatience, literally require a decidedly unsexy aid.
--
We begin:
Them niggaz pumpin dimes, trunk pumpin mine
I really make cake, you could call me Duncan Hines
Cam introduces himself to the listener. Either he, or people he is acquainted with, sell drugs in small amounts, and listen to Cam'ron records in their cars. Though confusing, and almost completely unconnected to the following bars, this information serves a purpose. Cam'ron needs the audience to recognize that he's quite rich in order to make the subsequent narrative events more plausible. (Whether you buy it or not is your choice. Cam has appeared in photographs with a Bugatti and a Maybach, but he also complains earlier on Killa Season of leaving his last label because they didn't pay promised royalties. Of course, the claim of his wealth stems from his supposed involvement in the game, but with the amount of material Cam and the Dips put out, is it even plausible that they do anything BUT live in the studio? Be real. Also, I think Rick Ross is legit.)
Had a drunken mind, club wobbled out
Next stop, start trouble inside the waffle house
Mmm, click the nine, yup skip the line
Looked at home boy yo, your bitch is mine
The story begins: Drunk leaving the club, Cam and his crew decide to continue the night with antics inside a Waffle House. Details sell the story right? So Cam'ron takes out his gun so he can expeditiously move the front of the line (already, you're like, "what?"), sees a woman he finds attractive, and intervenes.
Had a little knife, tried to flick his shine
Had a big gat, click clack, hit recline
Don't ever complain, over no dumb dame
See you big money, I'll turn 'em to chump change
Let my muscles show, cause I'm like Russell Crowe
Beautiful mind, took his bitch, hustle hoe
That was her boo, yes sir true
But I collect the chicken, call me Purdue
His ex wife, a new sex life
But ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-check it, go get ya wet wipes
More ambiguity. Cam's rival lunges at him with a knife, trying to take his jewelry. Luckily, Cam'ron carried a large firearm and apparently shoots his adversary, then mocks him for his chivalry. Perhaps Cam'ron finds such behavior outdated. Giles is a New Man, whose wealth is so tremendous it embarrasses the merely affluent. Further, his physique presents a perfect comparison to his riches as well as his intellect.
"Russell Crowe" here works overtime to signify both of these qualities succinctly. Deftly, Cam'ron draws a reference to Crowe's character John Nash as well as Crowe's imposing physical presence and all at once we know why life with Mr. Giles might be so appealing to the opposite sex. He promises to fill up his woman's world, in every sense of the phrase. While the listener reels from the density of this metaphor, Cam'ron seizes the occasion to play more tricks with language, and slyly sets up a punchline in the verse's final line that won't be revealed until the last moments of the narrative.
Go get ya wet wipes, go get ya wet wipes
Go get ya wet wipes, go get ya wet wipes
I see your head lights, they lookin dead nice
They got me sayin
D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-damn
Then the chorus, which is at this point confusing in every regard except its misogyny.
They all comical, Killa Killa phenomenal
Honored the honesty mommy isla villa I promise you
Cam is a man of his word.
I come once a year, I'm like the carnival
They all talk about me, call him Donahue
It's the Dom in you, nope it's the Cris in me
The '06 Ricky D, less glitter b
Yes Sicily wristery [?], don't mean shit to me
Get with me physically, mentally, literally
The catch is, he's never around, which bizarrely, only increases his appeal. Just like Slick Rick, who disappeared frequently from the rap game to do time on an attempted murder charge, Cam's appeal is enhanced by his mystique. He's drunk, he doesn't care about your Italian leather bracelet; he just wants every part of you. The "literally" here is multitracked for emphasis, even though such an effect both draws your attention and making the comment seem redundant, unncessary, and thus a non-sequitur, decreasing its potential impact. Cam'ron toys with our expectations as an audience, and isn't afraid to contradict them, even if doing so forces a sacrifice of his narrative authority. But even recognizing Cam's ability to shatter his own diegesis with some hysterical narrative cannot prepare the listener for what follows.
My henchmen, they lynch men
They apply the appliances the wrench-men
That's sense ten, I've been attendin
Plaintiff, defendant, sentence, independence
But it was said right, I was dead nice
And I'm dead wrong, but you'll die dead right
This red ice, chicken wings red rice
But baby girl, go get ya wet wipes
... I have no idea. Cam spews fragments of information apparently to convince his target of his already apparent qualities: his lawlessness and material affluence. He brags that his friends are murderers, continuing by threatening the life of his new companion if she refuses him despite his generosity and charm. As far as sense ten, does Cam'ron claim possession of either 5 additional physical senses? Or suggest that his words can have nine plus one meanings? Either way, it's back to the hook for a recharge.
[Hook]
Y'all niggaz know the deal, pop the golden seal
Candy apple rain drops, Soul For Real
No singer b, sling Heavy D
Ready rock, killa cop, steady b
Stay steady please, say I bet he squeeze
I ain't on it tonight, I need head for sheez
An effective if elusive Casanova, Cam drops a smooth, if incorrect allusion to an 80s hit, then draws attention to this mistake, at the same time clarifying it by naming the artist responsible. He cares not for sloppiness. He's a drug-dealer, not a pop singer. Blow him.
I don't care if you're Japanese, Lebanese
Chinese, Siamese, just be from the seven seas
I was wrappin a L, I got trapped in a smell
Perfume, bag, hat, all matchin Chanel
Ohh you a baller boo, how tall are you
5'6" 150, I need all of you
She had a candy chocha, como te llamo Rosa
Lets meet her family, let me hit, Sammy Sosa
I know you first class, I'm a jet flight
No take off, first get ya wet wipes
She has expensive tastes. A good pairing, then. Cam deals with his partner's apparent racial ambiguity by telling her in spanish that he'll call her Rose and promising to introduce himself to her family. That settles that; now on to business. But wait! Cam'ron has a surprise. Though ostensibly a good lover, Cam not interested in reciprocating any of the pleasure he demands. In fact, he won't even do much to excite his lover--artificial means are in order. The joke, in this case is on the girl, but it's for the listener too--Cam has now spent several minutes apparently illustrating his virility, but when it comes down to it, there's no way anyone but he could be satisfied by his performance. The irony of his conquest's "new sex life" reveals itself fully by now, and Cam's hypersexuality indeed seems confusing, even (indeed) overcompensatory. Cam's superficial qualities emerge as his only qualities. That's the joke, anyway, and because Cam freely makes himself the butt of it, the venture doubles back to avoid any loss. In the end, it's actually Cam's willingness to showcase his insensitivity and arrogance to such an extremity that it becomes unbelievable, allowing his undeniable and redeeming charisma to be exposed.
No comments:
Post a Comment