Beno! by Playboi Carti Lyrics Meaning – Unraveling the Layers of Hedonism and Identity
Lyrics
Spent a hundred k on my son, I bought my sister a Jeep
Can’t fuck with these hood hoes no more, they don’t give a fuck about me
All-black two-three, LeBron with the heat (what? Two-three, two-three)
I was just in Miami in the Rolls Royce geeked (what? Yeah, Rolls Royce, geeked)
Lil’ Tommy got an FN in the backseat (what? Yeah, in the backseat)
Red rag, red flag, bitch, you better make peace (yeah)
I’m in this bitch with my killers (yeah)
Whole lotta motherfuckin’ niggas (yeah)
We got them motherfuckin’ choppers (yeah)
I pick you up, nigga, I get you (yeah)
I said I don’t fuck with these niggas (yeah)
We see ’em, we punchin’ them niggas (yeah)
We uppin’ the score on these niggas (yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (yeah)
Go back (yeah, slatt, slatt)
You was still posted with my boy
Yeah, my slatt (okay, slatt, slatt)
Beno, he go crazy, you know that (what? What? Yeah)
Whole lotta bands in this bitch (what? Yeah)
Whole lotta cash in this bitch (yeah)
Hop on the motherfuckin’ plane (yeah)
I just popped me a G6 (yeah)
You know that I love to stay high (yeah)
My shawty just said that she bi (yeah)
She carry that shit, she gon’ ride (yeah)
I fucked her then told her she mine (yeah)
I’m really not with tellin’ lies (yeah)
I really don’t hang around guys (yeah)
The streets treat me like a God (yeah)
My bitch treat me like a God (yeah)
Got a main and a side (yeah, side)
Fuck fame, I ride with the fire
Blow out the brain in the ride (ugh)
Blow out the brain in the ride (yeah)
I’m ridin’ ’round town with a ratchet bitch (ratchet, ayy)
She say, “Carti, you back on your ratchet shit” (ayy)
I rock diamonds, the Patek from Elliante (what?)
Show me somethin’ that Carti not better than
If a nigga keep talkin’, we runnin’ in (yeah)
Get that nigga kicked out like I’m puntin’ it (yeah)
On the block rollin’ dice and I’m goin’ in
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Spent a hundred k on my son, I bought my sister a Jeep
Can’t fuck with these hood hoes no more, they don’t give a fuck about me
All-black two-three, LeBron with the heat (what? Two-three, two-three)
I was just in Miami in the Rolls Royce geeked (what? Yeah, Rolls Royce, geeked)
Lil’ Tommy got an FN in the backseat (what? Yeah, in the backseat)
Red rag, red flag, bitch, you better make peace (yeah)
I’m in this bitch with my killers (yeah)
Whole lotta motherfuckin’ niggas (yeah)
We got them motherfuckin’ choppers (yeah)
I pick you up, nigga, I get you (yeah)
I said I don’t fuck with these niggas (yeah)
We see ’em, we punchin’ them niggas (yeah)
We uppin’ the score on these niggas (yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (out the back door, yeah)
Go out the back door on that nigga (yeah)
Go back (yeah, yeah)
You was still posted with my boy
Yeah, my slatt (okay, slatt, what?)
Beno, he go crazy, you know that (what? What?)
In the realm of modern trap and hip-hop, few artists craft a sonic experience quite like Playboi Carti. Known for his distinctive delivery and atmospheric beats, Carti often weaves tales that blur the lines between excess, self-discovery, and nihilism. ‘Beno!’, a standout track from his expansive catalog, rolls out as an enigma wrapped in the veneer of luxury and street savviness. The song invites listeners into a constellation of Carti’s current life – a narrative dipped in bravado, punctuated by loyalty, and shadowed by the relentless pursuit of authenticity in a world driven by materialism.
While the lyrics may initially come off as a series of braggadocious statements and cacophonous ad-libs, a deeper dive reveals a complex tableau of an artist juggling newfound fatherhood, the pressures of fame, and the inherent dangers of street life. ‘Beno!’ is not merely a collection of lines and hooks; it is a layered exegesis on Carti’s persona and the environment that shaped it. Here we breakdown the song into mesmerizing nuggets of hidden insights and memorable quips.
Celebrating Fatherhood Amidst Chaos
Carti opens ‘Beno!’ with a line that instantly reveals the weight of his personal responsibility and pride: ‘Spent a hundred k on my son, I bought my sister a Jeep.’ This declaration of spending on family acts as a grounding agent amidst the whirlwind of his lifestyle. It’s not just a flex on his financial capabilities, but an assertion of a patriarchal role—underscoring a desire to care for his own amidst the hedonistic spiral that he often finds himself tethered to.
This juxtaposition of paternal care with a life teeming with excess presents a duality that Carti navigates throughout the song. As he parades through mentions of luxury vehicles and a cavalier attitude towards relationships, the importance of family remains a bedrock, offering a glimpse into Carti’s values and the complexity of balancing his role as an artist and a provider.
The Metaphorical Heat: A Look at Carti’s Weapons of Choice
When Carti drops lines like ‘All-black two-three, LeBron with the heat,’ he’s doing more than just flaunting his wardrobe or playing with LeBron James’ jersey numbers. He’s layering meanings, drawing connections between his own survival in the game and the competitive ferocity of an NBA legend. The ‘heat’ is both a symbol of his combative readiness and a badge of his success.
Carti’s references to weaponry, such as ‘Lil’ Tommy got an FN in the backseat,’ further amplify the sense of constant defense needed in the environment he was raised in or perhaps still associates with. It’s a grim reminder of the stakes at play—where success and safety are often parallel concerns, and your allies must be as equipped as you are.
Waving the Flag of Peace and War
The striking lyric ‘Red rag, red flag, bitch, you better make peace’ emerges as a cautionary directive. Here, Carti acknowledges the gang affiliations and violence that proliferate his surroundings while simultaneously playing the diplomat, offering a chance for reconciliation amid the omnipresent conflict. This line epitomizes the tightrope walked by those who find themselves with a foothold in both the world of fame and the streets that raised them.
Carti’s call for peace, albeit flanked by the readiness for war implied by the surrounding lyrics, suggests a yearning for resolution of the complex dichotomy of his existence. It serves as a stark reminder of the fragile truce between the opulence that success brings and the darkness of relentless rivalry and violence.
Unveiling Carti’s Labyrinth of Self
What seems like Carti’s brash self-aggrandizement—’The streets treat me like a God / My bitch treat me like a God’—scratches the surface of a deeper identity crisis. In a reality where one’s worth is often measured by clout and tangible assets, Carti deftly paints a portrait of an individual exalted by followers and loved ones, yet possibly lost in the very maze of adulation that elevates him.
His repetition and affirmation of ‘God’-like status exposes both a claim to power and an almost mythical self-perception. It questions how an individual navigates a world that worships the facade while constantly searching for the authentic self in an industry that profits from artifice and spectacle.
Echoes of Transience in Carti’s Rollicking Chorus
As the track rolls out, the cyclical pattern of ‘Go out the back door on that nigga,’ followed by hedonistic cries of pleasure and materialistic triumph, the listener is caught in an auditory loop of Carti’s reality—a ceaseless combination of evasion, gratification, and dominance. The recurring theme of tactical retreat or betrayal through ‘the back door’ imprints the notion of the impermanence and volatility of relationships, whether forged on the street or in the studio.
Carti’s seemingly nonchalant reference to backdoors and escape is a profound metaphor for the transient nature of his encounters and experiences. The words reverberate a world where trust is ephemeral, stakes are high, and the only constant is the pursuit of the next high, be it from wealth, drugs, or acclaim.
