Smooktobër by Yeat Lyrics Meaning – Peering Through the Smoke of Lyrical Complexity
Lyrics
Phew, phew, phew (woo), yeah (yeah)
I feel the crank comin’ on, lil bitch, it’s burnin’ (ooh, woo)
My wifey say she love me, I bought her a Birkin (woo)
It’s simple to get like this, you just don’t deserve it (uh-uh)
I fucked the whole game up, bitch, I start the service (phew)
They asked why I crashed the Benz, I don’t give no purpose (skrrt, woo)
I been takin’ the Perc’ for anxiety, but I don’t get nervous (ha, ha)
They be high talkin’ crazy, they don’t really got courage (phew, ooh)
At the top of the basement broke as hell, I was eatin’ on porridge (woo, yeah)
I done poured a deuce of that Wock’ and a line of flourish (ooh)
You could tell they don’t really got money, you could tell they malnourished (woo, yeah)
I don’t even flex a lot, but when I do, got peoples embarrassed (yeah, woo)
Tapped in with the fashion, pulled up on Virgil outside in Paris (ooh, woo)
I’m knowin’ this album ’bout to go platinum, put it on my parents (ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh)
I don’t got time to be shit talkin’, you could speak to the carats (no way)
They watchin’ everything I do, and repeat it like parrots (phew, brrt)
And to be honest, they can’t even do it like me so I could care less (uh)
Half a Perc’ mixed with a bean, bitch, I could feel this
I told the dealership I’m a star, put it in the ceilings
I just went up, up (ack)
I just went up, up and it’s stuck
Swerve, swerve, swerve, swerve, swerve
Yeah, I been high as the birds, birds, birds, birds, birds
I got a twin on the way and he lurk, lurk, lurk, lurk, lurk
I just pulled up on the side and I swerve, swerve, swerve, swerve, swerve (skrr)
I really went to the crank and it hurt, it burn
I learn, I did it again, bitch, it’s my turn (uh-huh)
We see you sittin’ ’round the place, we lurking
Yeah, we hit you up, we left your ass nourished
I just be taking the X with the Perc’
And they know that for sure that I’m leavin’ the earth
I just keep doin’ what I’m doing
No, I don’t listen to shit, lil’ bitch, I don’t learn
(Wake up, F1lthy)
Phew, phew, phew (woo), yeah (yeah)
I feel the crank comin’ on, lil bitch, it’s burnin’ (ooh, woo)
My wifey say she love me, I bought her a Birkin (woo)
It’s simple to get like this, you just don’t deserve it (uh-uh)
I fucked the whole game up, bitch, I start the service (phew)
They asked why I crashed the Benz, I don’t give no purpose (skrrt, woo)
I been takin’ the Perc’ for anxiety, but I don’t get nervous (ha, ha)
They be high talkin’ crazy, they don’t really got courage (phew, ooh)
At the top of the basement broke as hell, I was eatin’ on porridge (woo, yeah)
I done poured a deuce of that Wock’ and a line of flourish (ooh)
You could tell they don’t really got money, you could tell they malnourished (woo, yeah)
I don’t even flex a lot, but when I do, got peoples embarrassed (yeah, woo)
Tapped in with the fashion, pulled up on Virgil outside in Paris (ooh, woo)
I’m knowin’ this album ’bout to go platinum, put it on my parents (ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh)
I don’t got time to be shit talkin’, you could speak to the carats (no way)
They watchin’ everything I do, and repeat it like parrots (phew, brrt)
And to be honest, they can’t even do it like me so I could care less (uh)
In the world of trap music, where beats can weigh as heavy as the hearts of its creators, Yeat’s ‘Smooktobër’ emerges like a phoenix breaking free from a haze of introspection and braggadocio. Tracing the lines of anxiety, success, and hard-fought identity, this track weaves an intricate tale of transformation from the gritty basement to the high-flying, fashion-forward skies of Paris.
Beneath the surface of its hypnotic cadence and meteor-shower of ad-libs, ‘Smooktobër’ is a tableau of controversy and unapologetic self-expression. Through a maze of metaphors and stark confessions, Yeat sketchingly juxtaposes the hunger of his past with the opulence of his present, showing listeners that every high has its low, and every shout of victory echoes from a whisper of struggle.
The Whirlwind of Success: Luxuries as Love Language
Yeat’s signature bravado is on full display as he equates emotional sentiments with high-end material gifts. The purchase of a Birkin for his beloved isn’t just a token of affection; it’s a testament to his skyrocketing status. Yet, these gestures aren’t extended to everyone—’It’s simple to get like this, you just don’t deserve it’—a line serving a dual purpose of establishing hierarchy and savoring the fruits of his labor.
His lyrical brush dances between pride in his accomplishments and a dismissal of those who haven’t earned their stripes. This contrast is an everyday motif, illustrating the reality that not all are destined for the same glory, and few can navigate the luxury of the elite the way Yeat has masterfully done.
A Ride Without Reason: Crashing Benzes and Crushing Norms
Amidst the backdrop of opulence, we encounter a brazen disinterest in material attachment—Yeat speaks of crashing his Benz with not even a sliver of remorse. Perhaps as a listener, one might assume recklessness, but between the lines, one can sense an attempt to reframe the foundations of what truly matters to an individual who has reached a pinnacle of success where possessions lose their allure.
The nonchalant mention of the event speaks to a deeper detachment, a rebellion against the expectations of the status quo. It’s a dare to the audience—can you detach from the physical as I have? Can you understand the value lies not in the metal and rubber, but in the experiences they provide, no matter how fleeting or destructive?
The Hidden Depths Within Drug Euphemisms
Indeed, the lyrics of ‘Smooktobër’ may be littered with references to Percocet and Wockhardt, serving as metaphorical band-aids for the anxiety and pressures that come with fame. These aren’t just lines—they’re admissions of the coping mechanisms that sit shadowed behind the scenes of glamor and spotlight.
Yeat’s matter-of-fact demeanor in discussing his substance use highlights a culture that simultaneously glorifies and vilifies self-medication. ‘I been takin’ the Perc’ for anxiety, but I don’t get nervous’—a bar that’s an ironic twist on how society medicates against anxiety yet stigmatizes openness about mental health struggles, especially within the tough exterior expected of hip-hop artists.
Fashion and Identity: More than Just Threads
The unforgettable encounter with the late fashion icon Virgil Abloh in Paris is not just a drop of a name; it’s a statement of Yeat’s own burgeoning legacy in fashion and cultural relevance. Connecting with a visionary like Abloh ties his narrative to a broader canvas, painting his journey as a melting pot of music, the aesthetic, and the identity of ‘being somebody’ in a world that often overlooks the stories behind the sewn patterns.
It’s a clever stitch of homage and aspiration, proving that the rapper’s vision extends well beyond the sonic spectrum into a tactile world where fabric and rhyme interweave. Through this, Yeat forges a fellowship with the audience that’s as much about looking inward as it is about outward expression.
Echoing Immortality Through Simmering Lines
Certain verses leap out and cling to memory, refusing to be ignored or swept away. ‘I just be taking the X with the Perc’ and they know that for sure that I’m leavin’ the earth’—lines like these become a self-fulfilling prophecy, telling of a legacy that extends beyond earthly bounds, through music and influence.
Yeat knows the words he sprays are like seeds planted in the minds of those who listen, pulling them into orbit around his world. It’s an unabashed embrace of his own mythology—a modern-day bard aware that within each mumble and roar, he’s scripting the chants of tomorrow’s avid followers, hungry for that next Yeat beat drop.
