“I know America probably ain’t ready for a young black rich n*gga running around doing it how he had it planned since he was little. But i’m from the hood! This is all I know! All I grew up seeing was diamondz, money, drugs, fightin, shootin, dancing, basketball and football. real n*gga shit that’s all I was around while I grew up! I don’t know sh*t else!
I got signed when I was 16 and it took me away from that environment and put me on a whole other level that blew my mind. I’ve traveled all across the world and seen some AMAZING MIND BLOWING THINGS. But I can’t run from my past I can’t act like i’m something i’m not! I only can be what I know and be who I am WHICH IS ME. A young n*gga who was born in Southside Chicago moved to ATL and went to high school in Mississippi. NEVER stayed in a good neighborhood my whole life until after I got signed! ”
–Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em, SouljaBoyTellEm.com (via TheRundown.tv)
and, of course…
“When I was 9 years old/ I put it in my head I’mma die for this gold.”
–Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em, “Turn My Swag On”
Did Soulja Boy say he doesn’t know shit else? Really? I would have thought… Hmmm…
Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em is one of contemporary music’s great coons. Sadly, his rampant and pervasive iCoonery is fueled by an idolatry instilled in him back when he was but a wee marmoset. Despite the terrible things that have happened to him—such as surviving a home invasion and an apparent online breakdown—the youngster still seems to find no greater joy than conducting his delightful displays of niggerishness. Soulja Boy’s most recent jewelry unveiling and commemorative parking lot donut session are just the latest in a lengthy series of public praise to the slave masters printed on legal tender.
Yesterday, Soulja Boy lashed out at those fed up with his “Rich Nigga Shit”, namely a Negro Channel blogger with whom he can spar on an even literary plane. Whether Soulja wants to be a positive role model is neither here nor there. But Soulja seems genuinely hurt and confused by the public’s perception of his life. Strangely enough, this is a perception he’s captured, edited, posted and live-streamed himself. When I tweet shit like “THEY SHOULDA NEVER GAVE YOU NIGGAS USTREAM”, it’s not because I hate niggas having nice things or whatever. It’s for a nigga’s own good.
No one’s forcing cameras into Soulja Boy’s living rooms, bedrooms, game rooms, hotel rooms and daytime donut parking lots. On the same coin, Soulja’s not making an effort to show the world that he’s more than a high priced whore who works for expensive trinkets. However, even if he did, the type of sites he frequents probably wouldn’t be interested in watching him hand out turkeys. But, at least he’d have balance on his own YouTube channel, website or wherever his incessant coonery stream comes from.
–Not that people should be doing good deeds for recognition or anything, but the kid obviously loses sleep over what people think of him, so…
If you let Soulja Boy tell it, he’s just a lil’ nigga doing the nigga shit niggas see other niggas doing and grow up wanting to do themselves. This inexplicably causes niggas that ain’t Soulja Boy to be hatin-ass niggas, robbin-ass niggas and overly-critical of little niggas ass-niggas. Unfortunately, despite having done some traveling and charitable deeds, he believes he is confined to and permanently defined by the “diamondz, money, drugs, fightin, shootin, dancing, basketball and football” pervasive in the environments of his youthiest youth. (I wish I made that quote up). Perhaps he doesn’t see any more for himself because he’s distracted by the tattoos and ice and shit. Soulja Boy is cheating himself out of a chance at maturing into a complete person by limiting himself to the various peaks of “nigga shit” he saw growing up.
I put a lot of ridiculous shit into my mind when I was 9 years old too. Most of it involved a pact to never rest until I discovered how to obtain healing factor and adamantium claws. Some shit you instill into your own mind at age 9 needs to be rethought.
I love how Soulja Boy seems to be fully aware that he’s doing dumb shit, but thinks he should be absolved of responsibility because he’s 19. As a young lady sold into underage marital slavery once told me, “Age ain’t nothing but a number.” You understand shit when you understand it. You’re then held accountable for what you know. This little nigga knows better. Don’t let the chicken dances and Southern drawl fool you up-top niggas. That’s how they catch you slippin in the Bojangles parking lot.
[Blogger’s Note: Southern niggas ain’t slow. Nigga tried to play me.]
Soulja Boy claims the remote control Lamborghini chain causing such a stir is a gift from his jeweler. Whether he bought the piece of shit or not is irrelevant. Apparently, it’s just what he always wanted. For a jeweler to give someone such a gift, the recipient has to have bought an incredible amount of astoundingly niggerish pieces. Soulja likely fails to realize how the necklace brilliantly combines exposing both idol worship and childhood naiveté. It’s like giving Sambo a slice of watermelon and waiting with a video camera for the imbecilic reaction. As usual, Soulja Boy does not disappoint.
What do you get the junior shine lord who has everything?
This is what happens when a nigga lives for money. Surely, a man should be paid for his work and craft. If he’s paid handsomely, that’s all the better. But when a man lives for money itself, he practices a form of idolatry that erodes character. He then becomes a sock puppet for whoever’s in control of the money tap.
[Blogger’s Note: Shame on you readers who believe any action or behavior is justified by monetary compensation. Hopefully someone offers to pay you to kill yourself one day.]
If Soulja Boy’s not worried about frivolous, antagonistic displays of wealth–that may or may not be real–causing niggas to run up in houses with machine guns in pursuit of Scrooge McDuck money bins, maybe he won’t find peace until after his dishonorable discharge from the paper army. Once the checks stop coming in and the Lamborghinis start getting carried out of the garage, people tend to find their true selves and greater purpose.
Or, maybe a child soldier’s life is just fucked from jump.
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