I remember the first time I heard "Spottieottiedopaliscious" from Aquemini.
Must've been about late October '98, sitting in my dorm room.
Some cat sounding like Curtis Mayfield singing about...
Dickies and Lincolns and Stankonia, GA--
Even though they hadn't crowned it yet.
These real, live dubbed-out horns and drums
Floating from the speakers like blue blunt smoke,
And then Andre 3000's voice comes in:
Damn. Damn. Damn. James.
My roommate and I look at each other like
What the?...
And then Mr. André Benjamin starts to talk,
Painting poetry about a night club:
The DJ is handing out aural group therapy to the needy,
While his girl is whispering in his ear,
As the "Olde E" and "Set It Off"
Compete for his undivided attention.
Then fists fly somewhere across the room
Before three dudes get "hauled off in an ambulance."
Suddenly it's 3am again, and...
Damn. Damn. Damn. James.
We're expecting Big Boi
And Mr. Antwan Patton is there to deliver,
Only he's got his Gil Scott Heron hat on.
He introduces us to his Spottieottiedopaliscious Angel:
She sounds like Pegasus, Pam Grier, and Helen of Troy,
All rolled into one--
On roller skates, no less.
He muses about raising children with this woman
Even though, once upon a time,
"Booty clubs" were all that was on his mind.
He reveals what being a grown ass man
And handling your business is all about.
(How's that for your "typical MC?")
It becomes obvious that Sir Lucious is giving advice
To some young cat
Who thinks he can raise his family
On dirty/inconsistent money from slinging dope.
He cautions this dude
About the hell of self sabotage,
Reminding him about his
Halfhearted attempts at a good job
Only to be defeated by his own weedy pee.
As the song fades into an echo of cross sticks,
We think to ourselves:
"Those dudes didn't even rhyme once."
Yet we still hit "repeat."
Three times.
That's my interpretation of the situation.
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