Interview by Jamie Benson
Just a few months ago, elitaste premiered what appeared to be a regular-old mixtape track. Wale fans received a bit surprise when they opened the mp3, a song called “The Bomb,” which belonged to fellow-DC rapper Southeast Slim. The bigger surprise, however, will come after reading this exclusive interview with the rapper who is named after his neighborhood and recently released the aptly-titled That Dope mixtape. Read ahead for some insight from the artist who remains dedicated to delivering the best in underground hip-hop.

Slim, you recently garnered some buzz after you dropped “The Bomb” with Wale and being featured on imeem’s Keys to the City didn’t hurt, either. Before we go any further, let’s get a proper introduction into the life of Southeast Slim. Editor’s Note: If you have not downloaded THE BOMB, please do so immediately. It’s the bomb.

I’m a normal person so I’ve gotta go to work. I work a regular job and I go to work from 7:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. I come home if I don’t go to the gym and then if I’m in my music mode I go straight to the studio in my house. I’m a producer too, you know, so depending on what I’m working on it can take any time from two hours to two days to finish a track. Back in the day, I used to make a track and that shit would drain me, I wouldn’t be able to write to it. It don’t really work like that no more; my creative juices are flowing all over the place. So I make a track and then take a little breather, maybe watch some TV. I usually watch poker on TV, I’m a big poker-head. But then I cut that off because that’s a distraction. I play the beat over and over and work on my lyrics, which can take anywhere between 20 minutes and two days. Now that’s the average life of me during the week, but on the weekend after I’ve got all my projects completed, I wake up in the morning and call my homies to see what they’re doing. What time is it now?

It’s like 7:00 p.m. [Saturday]

At seven, I’ve gotta have a drink in my hand, chilling and trying to get the plans together for the night. Man, I don’t do that much. If it’s not music-related, it ain’t really related to me.

Have you been in DC your whole life?

I’m actually not in D.C. right now. From birth to 18 [years old], I lived in the Southeast [section of D.C.]. Then from 18 to 23, I was in college at Virginia State. When I came home, I had got my bachelor’s, which will probably blow most peoples’ minds. My dad had moved to Maryland, so I was staying with him. I wasn’t a D.C. resident anymore, but it doesn’t matter where you live, you’re from where you’re from. I ran across a good deal on a condo, so I now I stay in Capitol Heights.

For those who don’t know much about DC, describe the city’s Southeast section as best as you can.

The Southeast is funny. Most people that live in the Southeast don’t even know about…like when I went to school, it tripped me out when I realized that people from New York talk just like people from New York Undercover. I didn’t even now about the other world outside. I didn’t even start traveling until I was 18; I was real close-minded about everything and I thought Southeast was it. Even going uptown [in D.C.] was too far. I grew up on 1300th block Morris Road. The Southeast keeps you on your toes, you run into just about everything around there.

How would you best describe your sound?

As far as producing goes, I bring that 74 to 83 beats per minute, dark, grungy, bass-heavy, make-you-make the nasty head-nod sound. You gotta cross your arms because you don’t even know if you like me or not you’ll be nodding so hard. As far as the lyrics go, if you don’t smirk or giggle in between every other bar, you’re not my target audience. I think I bring a clever rap to the entire game. Prime example when I say: “All my little broads say you too cocky, boo. I say, well put your hand in my pocket, you’ll feel cocky, too.”

Now that we know how to classify your raps, who is responsible for your sound? In other words, who are your greatest influences?

I was thinking about this the other day. When anyone asks that question, I usually just say Method Man without thinking. Not the whole Wu-Tang movement because they were a little too far-fetched for me. Then Method Man was teaming up with Redman, and when anyone ever asked me about Redman I’d say, “Redman’s cool, but Method Man’s tight.” I want to say Method Man influenced me the most, but Redman got me through high school. I was always big on Outkast; the Outkast like before they really got into their groove. I love them now; Andre 3000 is one of the best rappers alive. I was always big on Goodie Mob, but getting people to like them took a little more coerciveness than Outkast. When the Fugees CD first came out, I was jamming that like a big dog. That line that Wale got “nigga I’m Nas, niggas was Pras,” that line is hilarious! I was always like, “I’m not feeling Pras!” It was always Biggie and Tupac, and I was also looking for something to put me aside from other people. I was big on Xzibit when he first came out. I was hellbent on getting instrumentals so I always copped singles. The “Luchini” Camp Lo joint was copped, too. Anybody that got featured on an artist’s song, I did some research on them.

You’re a member of the DC-based EMP crew, an independent hip-hop collective with a library of mixtapes. What’s your role in EMP and how did it all get started?

E.M.P. started in college. Every Friday, we’d get together and freestyle the night away, no homo. My man C, my man Zo, Eights, and my man Raja, he’s locked-up now. We’d get together from like six to ten at night and freestyle and record it with a karaoke machine. After about two years of us rapping together, we developed another bond aside from the friendship bond. You’re friends first, and then you’re rapping friends, so you’re like two different kinds of friends. It pretty much formed in a dorm room with a karaoke machine and two mics just freestyling like forever.

It’s rare to find a community of emcees and producers who continue to remain cohesive as a family. From the EMP to the Low Budget Crew, most DC artists seem to respect and look out for one another. How does everyone remain so close?

See, I can only relate that to how things remain in our circle. I started EMP with C, and we’re the co-CEOs. Anytime anything new comes out from D.C., he on it. You give him a CD, he got to listen to it. I was like, “well why do you do this?” He said, “I figure when it’s our time, I hope there’s someone in another click who goes out and gives the CDs a listen just like we do.” If [other D.C. artists] are just like us, that’s how it stays so cohesive.

Your history with Wale extends far beyond “The Bomb.” You produced three well- known Wale tracks, including arguably his breakout record, “Dig Dug.” Tell us a little about Southeast Slim the producer, the Hitter Quitter Boyz, and the artists you’re currently working with.

When it come to working with people, I’m way selective. I met Wale at Virginia State. I started producing in college, so I’ve been producing for eight years. It takes a long time to get a polished sound. If you’ve been producing for like two or three years, don’t try to throw me your beats because I hear all your elements and loops. It was funny the way [the meeting] happened. I had a studio in my room; I paid my way through college and a part of that meant I had to get a job as a resident assistant. What they didn’t tell me about being a resident assistant was that you get a tricked-out ass room. I had a kitchen, a bathroom, a little living room, and a bedroom. I turned the kitchen into a studio because the stove wasn’t working. I get a knock at the door and they say, “this my dude Wale from the football team, he raps.” I was like, “cool, come through.” I can’t remember if I told Wale we should sample go-go or whether he had the idea to sample go-go. I met this New York producer who wanted emcees over his beats, and he was into sampling. Then I asked him whether he could sample go-go. Most people call that shit pots and pans; they don’t even like go-go. The bottom line is that the answer was no, so I was like, “fuck it, I’ll do it.” I did a song called “Keep It Gangsta” with a Backyard sample and initially it was me, C, and Wale on the track. We thought it was good as gold so we took it to the radio station. Big G played it; this is when Big G had his own radio show on 93.9. He played it and said, “it’s cool, it sounds like a remix of ‘Keep It Gangsta.’” So now I had the niche for sampling go-go, and one day I found the sample for “Dig Dug.” Wale had specific ideas for songs he wanted to sample, but I don’t work that way, I need the sample to jump out at me. With “Dig Dug” I told him I had found something that he’d like and I played it for all my boys. They were like, “this joint tight, when are we going to record it?” I was like, “this joint ain’t for us, I’m giving this joint to the homeboy Wale. If [EMP] do it, we’ll probably never get any play.” I sent it to Wale and he finished it within 20 minutes.

You’re also the producer responsible for Wale’s “Breakdown,” a song that will be featured on the Madden 2009 soundtrack. While this is certainly a good look for an independent artist, how do you plan on forcing the national audience to accept you as an individual artist rather than just an accomplice of Wale?

The honest answer is if I knew the answer to that question, you wouldn’t have to ask me because you’d know already and I would already appeal to the masses. I’m not hating on any rapper that’s getting it in right now. It’s not even about how lyrically sound you are, it’s like a total-package type deal. [People] want the tracks to be good enough so they don’t even have to listen to you. They’re buying the person now, they’re not buying your music anymore. My fans like me as an individual. My motto is: I make music for me and the people that like the music.

Is a full-length album on the way anytime soon?

I would love to sit down and do a full-length album, I think about it all the time. When my first mixtape came out, it had two original tracks on it. It only had two original tracks because nobody knew who I was. Unless they heard a track that they knew already, they wouldn’t even give my voice a chance. I would love to make an album, but it won’t be profitable because who am I selling to? I’m super underground. I finally understand what Three 6 Mafia was saying when they said, “we the most known unknown rappers out there.” I used to call into the radio station and request “1 Thing About Player,” a song that I had the middle verse on. They were like, “we know what you’re talking about, the joint with Wale and the other bamma.” Until I’m no longer the other bamma, I’m not working on the album; I’ll mixtape you to death and continue to give you good music. At the end of the day I still make it for me and the people that like the music that I make.

How about that College Park show next month?

It’s me, Wale, the Clipse, and Consequence.

Are you excited for that concert?

Man, listen. I’m the opening act and people don’t know how much pressure’s on the opening act. And I hope you’re there because I’ma kill it!
Any final words?

If you’ve got That Dope, make sure you do some research on me and the rest of the camp. Make sure you cop The New White, which was my very first solo mixtape joint. Both of them have exclusive joints with Wale on them. We’ve got the EMP mixtapes volumes one through four; five is on the way. You can find all of it on http://imeem.com/seslim202.

BONUS: Southeast Slim – I Do Rhyme (From That Dope)