The club most certainly cannot handle this guy. (courtesy of wikipedia.org)

After yet another subpar match on the tennis court, my girlfriend and I went home and did what all Americans would do: listened to Flo-Rida’s 2010 smash-hit, “Club Can’t Handle Me.” It bumped. She danced. I sat down to write something about the glory that is the track.

No, folks, this entry has nothing to do with baseball, and everything do to with a magical song, with absurd lyrics.

(Disclaimer: I know very little about music, hip-hop, and Flo-rida, if that was not already clear. Regardless, I’m going for this.)

The first thing that jumps out about the lyrics page for the track, is that TWELVE different people are credited with writing the song.

Please tell me that that includes the people who wrote the music. Please. Because as of now, I am picturing twelve people sitting in a room, drinking coffee, listening to a beat and coming up with the following — my favorite lyrics in this brilliant song — which leads into the first chorus:

“They watching

I notice

I’m rocking

I’m rolling

I’m holding

I know it

You know it.”

Soak it in, folks. Soak in all the glory.

Okay, stop soaking it in. I have a few questions for the twelve people who created the poetry above:

1. Who is watching?

Since nobody is directly implicated in the small section I have provided, we will have to piece this together using the information in the rest of the song. We know for sure that the following people are present at the club in question: A) Models (who are apparently standing on chairs), and B) Flo-rida. Oh, and it is also debatable whether or not “bottles” are standing on chairs (“Bottles, Models, standing on chairs”).  So I guess the models are watching, and standing on chairs to do so. And perhaps the bottles are, too. It is interesting to me that the models aren’t crowded around Flo-rida. Does he smell bad? Is he really going wild — too wild? Is his crew also in the club, perhaps surrounding him? We have not figured that much out yet.

I’m going to take a guess here: the models are watching him. From far away, because they are scared to death of this guy.

2) Is Flo-rida professing his crack-smoking habit?

I assume the line “I’m rocking/I’m rolling” has a profound double meaning. Or triple — maybe even QUADRUPLE — meaning. But I’m really having trouble figuring it out, other than that fact that he is rocking and rolling (out) — as in dancing and generally getting down — and he is also presumably hinting at his own using of ecstasy. But if the “rolling” part is in fact referring to doing E, then is the “rocking” part a similarly, thinly-veiled reference to doing drugs? Is he smoking crack, on the dance floor? I’m going to assume that all of the above is true, and that I’ve missed several other metaphors in play.

This nicely transitions into my final set of question about those couple of bars:

3) What is he holding? How do “you” know that he is holding? How would he not know he is, in fact, holding? 

Where to start… okay, so he’s holding. And everybody knows it. Or, at least, two people know it: Flo-rida and whomever is listening to this beautiful piece of music. Is it the aforemetioned crack-cocaine that is being held? The ecstasy? Plain ole’ weed? Herein lies the rub: I’m supposed to know what he’s holding — he’s assumed that much — but I don’t! This worries me! Then again, perhaps he is simply declaring that I know he is holding something, and exactly what he is holding is a fun little mystery.

I might suspect that he is holding, due to the nature of the song and the image he is painting of himself, but I’m not sure I knew it prior to him assuming that I knew it. No, I had no idea, actually. I’m glad he let us know.

The truly astounding part, is when he tells us that he knows he is, in fact, holding. I guess we might assume he’s too fucked up to know he is holding, or that he is holding? Like when you go to the club and get so bombed that you forget you’re holding that eighth of weed, or roll of E, or that dime-bag of crack (does crack come in dime-bags?); I guess Flo-rida wants to assure us that he is wyling, but not so much so that he has forgotten that he is holding.

My best guess about this mystery of what he is holding, and why we are all aware: He is holding marijuana, and we know, and should assume that, because he is a pop singer masquerading as a rapper. And they always carry nugs. He knows he is holding, because, he is a human being who can retain information of all sorts in his memory bank.

Let’s put that to bed, and move on to my second favorite section of lyrics, also known as the entire second verse:

“Still feeling myself I’m like outta control
Can’t stop now more shots let’s go
Ten more rounds can I get a K.O.
Paparazzi trying to make me pose
Came to party till I came no more
Celebrate cause that’s all I know
Tip the groupies taking off their clothes
Grand finale’ like superbowl
Go hard I run the show
That’s right while I got money to blow
More light more ice when I walk in the door
No hype I do it big all over the globe
I said it
Go tell it
Who ready?
I’m ready!
You ready!
Let’s get it!”

I will not waste our time analyzing this whole verse, but there is one line that must not be overlooked:

“Came to party till I came no more.”

Came to party till I came no more.

I just put my face in my hands and took a deep breath. I’ll wait while you do the same.

Okay, so ostensibly Flo-rida came to the party until he had so much sex that he couldn’t come anymore. Yes? But when was that happening? Is that really something he should be advertising? Also, all of this brings up temporal questions: when was he having sex? He has now taken at least ten drinks, or perhaps twenty — he declares they are going to drink, or are currently drinking “ten more rounds”. He has also tore it up on the dance floor while models stood far away and watched. The paparrazi is all over him. Is this all the same night? Something isn’t adding up.

But wait.

Maybe, just maybe, Flo-rida is saying he came to party, got so drunk that he had whiskey-dick, and was incapable of performing. Actually, this would help explain the next line: “Celebrate cuz that’s all I know,” and the corresponding complete lack of acknowledging his interacting with women, whatsoever. He’s not interested in women at all! He’s only in the club to celebrate! This dude is so hard — or flaccid, depending on how you’re looking at it — that he entirely dedicates himself to clubbing. He doesn’t have time for all the sex that usually accompanies clubbing. That is how the main conflict in the song is created: he seamlessly concentrates all of his energy into making sure the club can’t even handle him.

I would hate to be that club.