#DeepCuts: 20 Secretly Awesome Soulja Boy Songs

This was the moment when Gucci Mane was becoming hip-hop's center of gravity, and his influence definitely shows on "Work on Deck." It was the beginning of Soulja's first major reinvention, and, especially in conjunction with the video, shows how re-energized Soulja seems by the prospect of Southern rap's big aesthetic shift at the time: "Raised in Atlanta, but born in Chicago/Back in Mississippi man I had the hood locked/With a backpack full of money and a half in my sock."

Is there a more satisfying song in the Soulja catalog than "Swag Flu"? In the end-credits sequence to the movie that is Soulja Boy's life, this would be the soundtrack. Birdman, of course, was tailor-made to rap on optimistic southern pop rap, which he does on the mixtape version of this track.

Eager to prove himself as more than a gimmick, it's songs like these where Soulja showed that he actually did have some understanding of flow, cadence, and style. "Outerspace Flow" is Soulja announcing himself as a rapper worthy of attention beyond dances and YouTube beef hi jinx, and he comes hard enough on this record to make it a valid statement.

In contrast to the hopelessly cheery "Zan With That Lean Pt. 1," "Pt. 2" is a queasy Xanax-codeine combo, in song form.

Over a thunderous 808 pattern, Soulja hits a rare double-time flow that, at the time, inspired more than a few to predict he was taking steps toward becoming a "serious" rapper. This turned out to be a red herring; rapping "well" was just another splash of paint on the ever-developing Jackson Pollack painting that is the Soulja Boy career. At the end of the song, he tells a story about shooting some home intruders, which one suspects is fictional.

"They doubted me in person, now they feeling like dummies/But I never gave a fuck 'cause I was always getting money," Soulja raps, effectively summing up his career in one line, but also showcasing the back story that makes his tales of success endearing. While "Gettin' Money" is ultimately celebratory, the beat and much of the song's content is rather ominous, and it's this stark reality that lends itself to an enjoyable authenticity.

Soulja Boy's Lil B phase reached its most obvious parroting moment when he went in on Lil B's stream-of-consciousness free-associative style. But, as product of the same culture that made Lil B possible, Soulja understands his appeal, and mimics with with an engaging sincerity.

This is exactly what you should get from a Soulja Boy song called "Molly." It has singing, copious drug use, sex (with your girl). You get the idea.

BANDZ, BANDZ, BANDZ, BANDZ, BANDZ, BANDZ. The song's core subject wormholes it's way into your brain, and Soulja offers some witty, nuanced rhymes that ensure it stays there.

When Wiz and Curren$y first hit, there was a moment where stoners in Jordans were pretty much the archetype of every rapper out. While Curren$y and Wiz dropped dropped more memorable songs than "Weed and Shoes," none of those tracks cut so directly to the marrow of what really motivated the movement. By hitting on two of the most universal interests of hip-hop fans, Soulja's song captures the zeitgeist so literally that it almost supersedes all of the others. It makes up for lack of originality with directness.

A dreamily ethereal track with an appropriately majestic music video. It's interesting how generous Soulja is with his time in this song, like he's personally going to take you on a tour. There's also something funny about the track's rootlessness; despite being about "my city," nothing in the lyrics indicates which city he's talking about, and the song could as easily apply to Moscow or Mexico City as Miami, where the video was shot as part of Soulja's 21st birthday celebration (and is not one of the three places he's claimed as home, previously).

From Bubba Sparxx to Nappy Roots to Field Mob, country rap is a well-trod motif in hip-hop. From the sincere to the cartoonish, the backwoods down-south aesthetic has been pretty well mined over the past two decades of the genre. Soulja's "Country Boy," despite the presence of a plucked banjo, has a weirder sound, with a sped-up vocal sample repeating "thank God I'm a country boy!" and a melody that is a little more high-noon Western than it is country. Meanwhile, Soulja's raps don't differ too much from his standard bragging. Weirdly, it's the disjointed nature of the song's construction that makes it unique.

Soulja Boy's My Way of Life is one of his most consistent projects, and album track "Blowin' Racks" is a highlight. Soulja's brags about fucking hoes "since elementary" and mentions that his coupe is the same color "poop stain."

The beat's razor blade synthesizers are a necessary framework for this ego tripping session, the perfect soundtrack to a decadent weekend with Kat Stacks. Try not to preen too much when rapping along with the hook.

"Steez" rides regal, utterly hypnotic production while Soulja issues a series of echoed mantras for the chorus. Many times with artists like Soulja, people claim that the beat is saving a mediocre rapper. In reality, the beat is certainly key to the song's success, but only in the sense that it enhances Soulja's inherent Soulja-ness. "Steez" is a perfect example.

We didn't think it was possible to make such a beautiful song about your devotion to a designer brand, but this track makes you want to dress head-to-toe in Louis Vuitton and drive around town with a one-track CD-R of "Louis Vuitton" on repeat.

Presumably, this is what "Zan With That Lean" would sound like if your codeine supplies are running low. The beat does sounds like battle-rapping seagulls and dolphins while scuba-tripping in a coral reef. The expansive, swirling production is the perfect accompaniment for Soulja's de-tuned melodic flow and evocative lines like, "Let the birds fly and the preachers preach/Ride around town, I'm Lil Meech."

Between Soulja's desiccated Auto-Tune and a hypnotically repetitive approach, this song doesn't just communicate the lean handicap through its lyrics, but through the song's entire sonic sensibility. For the most part, this means repeating "kickstand" over and over, although Soulja manages to lick off a pretty concise statement of purpose: "I'm gonna keep sending shots til these old niggas retire."

This beat is unlike any in the Soulja catalog; it sounds like a stiffer Southern version of a Too $hort track circa Born to Mack. Meanwhile, Soulja is out dropping anti-knowledge every couple bars: "Gucci boxers on my dick like your girl's lips," "Soulja Boy for president, fuck the election."