"Slam the ass and raise it up on three/Here come Keke with the Big Pokey." A hundred twenty minutes of Keke, Pokey, and the underrated Mike D over classic beats. Other SUC members, such as Fat Pat, sounded more at home on dense West Coast music. But Keke and Pokey are made for this golden age NYC stuff, reconciling good-times Bronx-park-jam-toasting and hopeless Houston-working-class Geto Boys-isms.
Pokey and Keke over Eric B. and Rakim is 20 minutes of straight flowing: Keke sounding focused and pissed off, rapping about drug-game bullshit, police hassles, and bumper kits. And Pokey rolling around the Beltway, vacillating between diamond-grilling girls in parking lots and stirring up Northside-Southside rivalry, reviving the Daytons versus 84s debate. The session closes with Pokey picking up after a weakening Keke and tearing apart the Grandmaster Flash-jacking "Check Yo Self"—a victory lap with trunk popped: "It's the Poyo," he exclaims. "Known for movin' the crack..." And then the closing credits, rolling over D'Angelo's "Brown Sugar" slowed to syrup-thick bass and nothing else.