“Crank Dat Soulja Boy” Raises Profound Philosophical Quandaries
Soulja Boy’s 2007 magnum opus continues to astound listeners and linguists alike with its soulful underpinnings
Perhaps it’s no secret that rap can get a “bad rap.” Considering songs like Nicki Minaj’s “Anaconda,” Cardi B’s “W.A.P.,” and N.W.A.’s “Fuck Tha Police,” maybe there’s a reason people struggle to see its artistry.
But at best, rap can be poetry. And perhaps no better case study of that philosophical depth exists than Soulja Boy’s 2007 hit, aptly named “Crank Dat Soulja Boy,” and off of his breakout album Souljaboytellem.com.
To merely examine the title alone, it’s clear that there’s a linguistic prowess embedded deep within the words of this rapper/self-proclaimed soldier. But once he launches into the lyrics, there’s simply no resisting tears as he explains:
Yuu
Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em
Ayy, I got this new dance for y’all called the Soulja Boy
You just gotta punch, then crank back three times from left to right
The dance refers initially to his time fighting in the trenches during his stint as a soldier in Okinawa during World War II, one can fairly assume. But watching the music video that accompanies Soulja Boy’s musical magnum opus, it’s clear that the aging centenarian can still move impressively well.
Launching soulfully into the chorus, the war veteran and hip-hop extraordinaire enters into uniquely philosophical terrain. He describes his identity crisis — as well as his affinity for superheroes and… scantily clad women — with the words:
Soulja Boy off in it, oh
Watch me crank it, watch me roll
Watch me crank that Soulja Boy
Then Superman that hoeNow watch me you, crank dat Soulja Boy
Now watch me you, crank dat Soulja Boy
Now watch me you, crank dat Soulja Boy
Now watch me you, crank dat Soulja Boy
Musical scholars have long debated about the meaning behind the words “watch me you.” In repeating the words, he hones in more deeply on the profound philosophical question he poses.
Many believe that when he states, “watch me you,” he temporarily assumes the position of each individual listener, embodying their separate experiences and memories. He empathizes with them down to their very core — to the point where he can effectively exude their very essence. And he implores the listener to watch as he “you’s.”
Following the profound sense of oneness that he evokes in those pointed three words, he calls for a new type of dance — a dance of shared revelation with each listener. Rising from the pits of despair, the painter with words invites us to Crank dat Soulja Boy beatifically off into the night.
There’s a powerful mesmerism that hardly any listener can resist as they suddenly become one with the chain-wearing, face-tattooed senior and former trench-fighter. And sharing skin with the modest boy soldier — even if only for a moment — amounts to more of an experience than it does a song.
But some other minds within the field believe that there’s some contention around that most famous lyric. Some think that the musical phenomenon of our time actually expressed a different sentiment within that weighty verse.
“I believe the words the rapper actually attempted to communicate were in fact, ‘why me you?’” Linguist, professor, and hip-hop historian David Landers, PhD stated in an interview. “And in so doing, he introduces an air of melancholy; the words denote that the feelings of empathy in which he’s so irrevocably entrenched have grown to represent a hindrance — even a source of confusion for the pensive hip-hop artist, one could say. It wasn’t always his intention to empathize so thoroughly with his audience. But such is the burden of great artists,” Landers continued reflectively.
“It’s clear from the grizzled soldier’s words that he holds onto many scars from his days in battle.…” the professor concluded.
The song proceeds from there in similar fashion, raising deep and existential quandaries at almost every turn of phrase the Shakespeare of rhyme introduces. In the words:
I’m too fresh off in this hoe
Watch me crank it
Watch me roll
Watch me crank that Roosevelt
And super soak that hoe
super soak that hoe [9x]
the creative prodigy stirs a sense of nostalgia and longing for the days of yore with his sentiments about super soakers amidst lawn equipment. But he further drives home the sense of history he’s created, harking back to the days of Roosevelt. In bringing the past to life with each linguistic brush stroke, he instills images of grandeur, and invites each listener who hears his melodious words to reflect on the way that the past becomes the present.
The beleaguered war fighter and hip-hop wunderkind ends the song by re-exploring the “watch me you” image one final time. While it’s a song that encourages a joyous revelry at its high points, it also grows infused with a certain sadness as we consider the fate that the poor soldier solemnly imparts.
We’re forced to wonder whether Soulja Boy is still us, and inversely — whether we’re still him. There’s a sense of majesty in the interconnectedness, but also a sobriety in the notion of that trapped and terrified soldier… lingering on inside us. And us, forever forced to watch him as he continues on against all odds.
This article was originally published on Medium.
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Well, Ben, I think our generation gap is showing.😂 I appreciate the excellent explication you lay out in this piece. But I always think of a husband and wife (or any combination of partners) saying when they hear this, “Honey, they’re playing our song.” I did like early rap like Grandmaster Flash but that’s about it.
Now I listened to the entire rap on the link you provided, so here’s one for you. I’m going to imagine you grooving to this.
https://youtu.be/_Vqnh7WyUJk?si=lpojI7XYiMJ5p55V
The Boondocks parodied it well.