Single Review: Nick Cannon “Your Pops Don’t Like Me (I Really Don’t Like This Dude)”

Your Pops Don’t Like Me (I Really Don’t Like This Dude)
Album: Nick Cannon
Year: 2003

Nick Cannon wears his girlfriend’s father’s disapproval of him like a badge of honor in the swaggering “Your Pops Don’t Like (I Really Don’t Like This Dude.”)

A cartoonish bass thumps as Cannon gripes to his friends about girls’ overprotective fathers. He’s dated plenty of girls and has had many of their fathers dislike him. In the single, he talks about his last experience with a girl he met while standing outside at the dollar store. (“Oh, females dads be trippin’ for real/I mean, I’m a player with ma, right/And see what had happened was/I was hollerin’ at this chick in front of the 99 cent store/Well, here’s the whole story.”)

Continuity hitches a ride to Nonsensical City, never to return. Cannon changes where he met and how at least three times within four sentences. First, he met her at the mall. Then, she paged to him to come to the mall, meaning he was somewhere else. Somewhere in between, they decide to leave mall and go to her house. To which I ask, why didn’t Cannon just go over to her house in the first place? He hurries there, making sure to put his doo-rag on to look as pseudo- street as possible. She hums a song which gets him excited. They are ready to kiss when her father enters the room. The father starts asking his daughter “who is he? why is he here?, etc. Cannon regrets coming over to her house and wishes he would’ve called her instead. (“She was a tall slim, oh, chick I met last week/At the mall, cute feet with the baby fat booty/She paged me to come over the mall/So I smashed in the crib, bumpin’, can’t walk {Oh, boy}/With the doo rag on {Yo’, boy}/When she sang that song she turnin’ me on/If would have known her pops was home/Could have stayed at crib, hollered at her on the phone/But pops got hot….rang dang when he came with the questions.”)

Cannon plays the celebrity card. Even though he looks like he a wannabe gangsta, he’s not really one. Although he wishes he had the street cred. He says he’s the nice, funny guy on Nicklodeon who has acted and produced some movies. He references the now cliched Outkast catchphrase, “I’m sorry, Ms. Jackson,” and twists it into a condescending, shifty excuse.(“I’m sorry, Mr. Jackson, but I sell records/Nah, once again, I ain’t got a jail record/It’s Nick Cannon, the cat you ain’t used to/The rapper, actor, comedienne/producer.”)

A male background singer with a gruff voice is the father in the single. He raps that he doesn’t like Cannon and thinks his daughter can do better. Cannon smirks that the girl’s father hates him. (“I really don’t like this dude, I can’t stand him/Where did he come from, tell me/I really don’t like this dude, I want so much/So much more for my daughter (Your pops don’t like me)/I really don’t like this dude, I can’t stand him…so much more for my daughter (Your pops don’t like me.”)

The girls from the inner city appeal to him the most. They act larger than life and above everything. Just like him! However, he chides them for asking their dad’s permission to go out on a date. Cannon says they should be able to do whatever they want. They are adults. He compares the dad’s behavior to that of a stalking felon. They make out the entire night. A couple days later, he calls the girl’s house and her father hangs up on him. (“When the girls from the ghetto act the size of they stilettos/6-7-8 wanna make us wait/They wanna date, gotta ask pops/You a grown woman, all that need to stop/At the club, yeah, you have a thug at home or not/You daddy’s little girl that he love a lot…Shorty, we should probably hook up….cut to the next day and a half/Called the crib and your dad hung up on my ahhh!”)

He wonders if he’s disliked because he smokes pot, flaunts expensive jewelry and convertibles. The first reason is justifiable enough for the dad to caution his daughter. (“Is it ‘cause of the blunt, ma (He don’t like me)/Or is the watch, ma (He don’tlike me)/˜Cause I’m a pushin’ a drop, ma (He don’t like me, like me…”)

For Cannon, the father is jus’ jellus’ of the fame and money he makes. Or that he doesn’t like the movies he’s in. Well, actually nobody does. People turned away in droves. Other than “Drumline,” “Garfield” and “Love Don’t Cost A Thing” flopped. He brags about his 20 cars and calls himself the ‘Black Elvis.’ And the delusional meter just broke with the last statement. It was one hit movie, Cannon. He says to his girlfriend that he doesn’t want to fight her father or not act like himself. Although the latter may be a good idea. He advises her to sneak out in order to hang out with him. He then uses a dated reference to Chris Tucker’s quote from Rush Hour. She’s not dumb, Cannon. She just thinks the rebellion isn’t worth it. (“Is it cause I make more money than him/He be jonesin’, those films ain’t funny to him…rims, inches on my Benz, yeah, 20 of them…don’t wanna Roy Jones your pops/Left, right, uppercut, knock out your pops/Close the door, lock out your pops/We on a roll now, sugar, I ain’t ’bout to stop/Don’t care if he try to kick me out your house/Do you understand the words that are comin’ out of my mouth.”)

After the chorus, he wonders if the father is threatened by his youthful good looks or his extravagant house. He also thinks it’s because of the cornrows in his hair, his sex drive, and his money. (“Is it˜cause I’m handsome (He don’t like me)…Cause my house is a mansion (He don’t like me, like me)…Is it cause of the corn rows (He dont’ like me)/Or is it my hormones (He don’t like me)/The Gs and the bank roll (He don’t like me, like me.”)

The chorus is rapped twice to end the single.

The dreadful “Your Pops…” The father is justified in telling his daughter to stay away from the arrogant, wannabe Cannon. Cannon is a narcisstic and shallow person, thinking he is entitled to certain girls because of his celebrity. The father sees through Cannon and knows his bad news. Cannon chalks it up to jealousy instead of his own behavior. Dreadful and greasy like unwashed cornrows “Your Pops” is an exercise in vanity.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s