Turn My Swag Off
“Cracker” media is enough to make a nigga…
“Hop back in the bed. Turn my swag off./
When I wake up I’mma roll another blunt./
Yeah. I’m gettin monayyy./”
If I were young DeAndre Way, I’d turn the computer and vaporizer off for a minute too. As many of you are already aware, Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em cracked on Twitter for a million followers to see last night. Media Take Out kept a pretty good record of the tweets… and cradled his nuts ever so gently.
Ronnie understands, Soulja Boy. Promoting ignorance is a hard job and these crackers won’t let you do it. Fair enough. But with anything worthwhile, a nigga’s gotta persevere. You think they just let BET programming hit the airwaves? There’s a team of porch monkeys doing their damnedest to make sure everything on that network is careless and mind-numbing. If you want to be considered among the greats, you’ve got to put in the work. Plus, we’s colored. So, there’s going to be opposition at every turn.
The way I see it, Soulja Boy’s really only a couple blunts-per-day away from being the icon colored ignorance hasn’t had since, well, Snoop Dogg.
Soulja Boy’s camera blunts are both a gift and a curse. While decreasing BPD (blunts-per-day) might help curtail the freakouts, he may not reach the lucid, ultra-conscious dream state necessary to understand that he’s been chasing a mirage. When you chicken dance for “cracker” media approval, you’re pandering to the attention of a terrible and fickle beast that will eventually tear you apart for entertainment.
That’s right. There’s whatever entertainment you provide. Then there’s the entertainment that comes in your slow, painful deconstruction. With that said, I ain’t even nobody, but I don’t lose a wink over what niggas have to say about what I do. Anyone who does isn’t built for the medium in which they operate.
As far as what’s being said that hurts so much, who the fuck watered down Soulja Boy’s watered-down-ass music? Who made Soulja Boy look ignorant in the media? I don’t think any bloggers hit the booth and whined lazy, cheap shit into expensive microphones. I damn sure didn’t set up and advertise his camera blunt uStream. Toure only asked a question. Soulja Boy answered it… by thanking slave masters. Ron Mexico doesn’t have any material to entertain the people with until niggas do stupid nigga shit.
On the other side of Soulja’s nonsensical argument with his own conscience, the fans are out to get him too. Unfortunately, the brilliant team that has shaped Soulja Boy’s career didn’t warn him that fans of fads don’t love shit unconditionally. That’s just the way fast food hip-hop works. #Swag will be replaced with a new keyword by year’s end. Tight and bright fashion will give way to some other uniquely expressive means of popular dress. There will be a new raptastic combo meal on 106 & Park. Unless Soulja figures out a way to become that timeless, home-cooked catfish dinner complete with hush puppies and collard greens, he might as well stay under them Gucci sheets.
Before Soulja Boy deleted last night’s tirade, I thought he may have been emerging from a co-coon of sorts. That’s a hyphy-nated word, right? I notice that his profile name is “Dre’” instead of “Soulja Boy”, and that he’s now promoting “dretellem.com”. Reportedly, his forthcoming album will be called The DeAndre Way. I thought this whole bitchfest might have been another “genius”, calculated advanced social networking technique.
“Fuck all this cracka hatten shit. I ain’t Soulja Boy no more. Soulja Boy is dead. After I finish smoken this clip of Afganistan teroriss weed I’mma be Dre Tellem. A man. Pow!”
No such luck, though. It looks like Tyrese, a man with actual discernible talent, straightened him out with some good hookerly advice. I can imagine it included putting “Actor” before “whatever it is you actually do” in his Twitter bio.
I sincerely hope Soulja’s next reefer cloud takes him back to the introspective place that spawned last night’s tirade. He may just stumble upon a plan to better himself there.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Haters ruining your life? firstname.lastname@example.org