In search of life’s truths, we look to a nearly thirty year old, one-hit-wonder about an MC with a fecal-inspired nickname because why not?
In 1991, a song called “Doo Doo Brown” was released by the hip-hop duo 2 Hyped Brothers and A Dog (technically, they are a trio if you count the dog which I don’t because it’s a dog). They are not to be confused with the group 2 In a Room which was another hip-hop duo active in the early ’90s and are mostly known for their hit single “Wiggle It” which is a straight up jam.
Nor should they be confused with 2 Live Crew. They did release a song shortly after the Brothers called “I Wanna Rock (Doo Doo Brown)” but they are mostly famous for “Me So Horny” which exquisitely samples that scene in Full Metal Jacket where a Vietnamese prostitute proffers herself to Matthew Modine’s Joker under the pretense that she would love him “long time.”
No, 2 Hyped Brothers and A Dog were a whole other thing. The group consisted of DJ Frank Ski who’d cut his teeth in the game working the Baltimore clubs in the late ’80s, another guy whose name I could not possibly tell you (seriously, Google has let me down with the Hyped Brothers. There is virtually nothing on the internet about these guys. Someone named Al McLaren, Jr. got a few writing credits on their songs so we’re gonna go ahead and say the other Hyped Brother was him) and the last member was a German Shepherd named Klaus (that may not actually be the dog’s name, but it sounds like a good name for a German Shepherd).
They released one LP in 1991 called Ya Rollin’ Doo Doo which, as titles go, is better suited for an album dropped by a dung beetle than a hip-hop group.
A simple little comma between the Rollin’ and the Doo Doo might have saved it from otherwise sounding like a weak comeback you might conjure after being eviscerated by a ‘yo’ momma’s so fat’ joke. Example:
Kid on the playground: “Yo’ momma’s so fat, I swerved to miss her but I ran out of gas!” (Laughter ensues)
You: “Yeah…well, ya’ rollin’ doo doo!” (Crickets)
Despite the unfortunate title and uninspired album cover that features a single pic of both Ski and maybe Al McLaren, Jr. but FIVE pics of the dog, the music it contained blended party rap, and chopped, staccato house music splendidly. And this was none more apparent than on the single and most memorable track “Doo Doo Brown.”
It starts with an all-timer of an opening line (“Gimme the track…”) and then three intoxicating little notes are repeated four times (the last note in triplicate) before BOOM…we’re slammed by a dance floor-ready beat with a looped yet understated “yeh” punctuating it’s end. Classic.
When Ski hits the mic (in the guise of his alter-ego, the titular Doo Doo) it is with two specific goals in mind:
- Get as many butts shaking on the dance floor as humanly possible.
- Introduce us to Doo Doo, who is new in town, so damn cool and unlikely to be played for a fool.
He is wildly successful at both of these goals, despite not being especially gifted as a wordsmith. While it is the phat beat that gets the party jumping, his command that we cease what we are doing immediately and cater to the groove certainly does help. And his hype-man, perhaps Mr. McLaren, does a really good job at incessantly reminding us who the song is about and why we should care.
But that question remains, some twenty-eight years later. Should we care? The answer is no, not really. But also, yes because any song that can succeed at making somebody who willfully calls himself Doo Doo seem cool must contain at least a few nuggets of wisdom. Thankfully for you, I parsed through the lyrics to find them.
Off the jump, we learn that if you are going to call yourself Doo Doo, the best color-themed surname is definitely Brown. There are really only two other colors that would even make sense and they both are 1,000% worse than Brown; Red and Green. Red would just call to mind some life-threatening bowel malady that requires immediate medical attention. Green, on the other hand would suggest some intestinal distress brought on by stunting at the Thai restaurant when the waitress asks if you are sure you can handle your spice. Yeah, just go with Brown (as an aside, it is easily one of the worst hip-hop handles, rivaled only by Tity Boi who at least had the sense to change his later on to 2 Chainz).
Next, if you wanna be bad you gotta come at the King, which in the early ’90s was Michael Jackson (this was during those innocent, pre-Leaving Neverland days). First, Doo Doo directly compares himself to Jackson (“bad as Michael Jackson ever had”) which was a bold proclamation for someone who’d never charted prior to this (even then, “Doo Doo Brown” only peaked at #90 on the Billboard Hot 100). Then he mocks not only Jackson’s hairstyle (“Doo Doo don’t sport no Jheri Curl juice”) but also one of his primary sponsors (“Don’t drink Pepsi, always Coke.”) before slipping in a presumably uncredited sample of Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” midway through the song. That’s some Stanley Johnson calling out LeBron James in the 2016 Playoffs type of action (though it definitely worked out better for Doo Doo than Stanley).
Then Doo Doo teaches us that it can’t be all posturing all the time. Sometimes you need to step back and appreciate the little things in life, like cruising in a Jeep on a pristine summer day, slowly though so all the “homeboys” can “get a peep” at you. But it just can’t be any Jeep. It must be one that is freshly waxed and Armor All’d, with the requisite audio system blaring and, if possible, a small group of women in the back seat licking popsicles. Now, he suggests “four or five” women, but that seems dangerous to me. A Wrangler could fit two average adult females comfortably, perhaps three if you squeeze ’em in, but you would be unnecessarily putting your passengers at risk in event of an accident (with only two seatbelts, and all). Any more would be downright reckless.
As for the popsicle line, it is probably just a thinly veiled metaphor for a phallus because everybody knows you don’t eat popsicles in a car that’s been Armor All’d lest you be left with sticky fingerprints and drip marks everywhere.
Next, (after repeating that he is new in town and next up as it pertains to ruling) Doo Doo presents his biggest flex; his hotline. Only a true BOSS makes people spend money to speak with them even if they are right there “in the house live.” The best part about 1-900-976-DOO-DOO (other than it seems like a few too many numbers) is the absurdly high rates Doo Doo was charging just to talk; two dollars for the first minute, but twenty-five dollars for each additional minute! This was hotline bling WAY before Drake.
This business model is exactly opposite to how most 900 numbers work. Typically, the first minute is the most expensive, that way if the caller gets cold feet, or re-evaluates their poor life choices, the company still gets that initial lump sum. But not with Doo Doo. He’s operating like a drug dealer (the ‘first one’s free’ mentality, or in this case two dollars) and he is so confident in the addictive properties of his conversation that he upcharges subsequent minutes to gargantuan proportions. For example a nine minute call would cost $202! Talk about a flex!
After that high point he shouts out what year it was which is unfortunately something lacking in modern hip-hop. It saves a Google search down the road when you wonder “What year did that song come out, again?”
Lastly, Hyped Brother #2 announces to any “homeboys” with the gall to challenge Doo Doo’s reign that they’d better bring that fire. At least, that’s what I think he meant when he said “Act like a tennis shoe, and just do it.” (It comes across a bit dorky, though, kind of like a hip-hop version of “make like a tree, and get out of here.”)
To summarize, the doctrine of “Doo Doo Brown” can offer us much as we try to navigate these complicated times. By focusing on what matters, like a waxed up Jeep with some cuties in the back, a discerning taste in colas, and a highly profitable 900 number (as long as callers don’t just hang up and call back again after the first minute), those of us that adhere will enjoy the spoils of many victories. And if you don’t follow the Brothers’ (and their dog’s) words? Well, you gets nuuuunnnnnnnnnnnn!
Peace.
Cover art: Erik Belcarz (Background: Roenkae, Anni, pexels.com. Can: Nitschke, Evan, pexels.com. Banned circle: Xm1702, wikimedia.)