A shaky stab at Soulja manhood, the third disc from the “Crank That” cutie finds him hitting drinking age, torn between pup and pit bull. “Soulja Boy rich/Sayin’ ‘Fuck an allowance,’ ” he raps. R&B nuggets like “Blowin’ Me Kisses” update the innocent charm that made him a star, and his knack for spare ringtone hooks grows apace (“30 Thousand 100 Million” has a five-note keyboard figure that sounds like a Nineties modem going online). But the beats are often joyless, and Soulja’s boasts about his dick and his “mean mug” are bland and jaundiced. “Grammy” (as in “I deserve a …”) takes unearned arrogance to Durstian heights.