The Bees Knees by Juice WRLD Lyrics Meaning – Unraveling the Layers of Substance and Stardom
Lyrics
Chasing the lean
Let’s go (Okay, okay)
Chasing the lean, rotting my brain
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah yeah
Let’s do it
Chasing the lean, rotting my brain, honestly
Drugs the only thing that’s faithful to me, sorry to say
Groupie hoes wanna come my way
Come take this pic and get out my face
Ran into my main thing
Come take this dick and you can stay
It’s my year, year, year, codeine sip, no beer
Holy shit, he’s the shit, words from my peers
Don’t like me, you can suck a dick, that’s how it goes around here
Cowboy, oh yeah, big shooter in the air
Drunky
You wanna fuck me, bitch, then fuck me (let’s do it)
You wanna kill me, nigga, then buck me (let’s do it)
These niggas really want me dead (c’mon)
I don’t really think they that lucky (c’mon)
I told my bitch I love her (I did)
I hope she think I mean it (whoa)
I wouldn’t lie about that shit, trust me (At all)
I wouldn’t lie about street shit, trust me (At all)
I wouldn’t lie about drug shit, trust me (Oh no)
See that drug shit hide the ugly (Oh no)
And I ain’t never been ugly, trust me (Oh no)
Dicked up in her brain, concussion (Uh-huh)
We had a Snoop Dogg discussion (We did)
A sexual eruption (Smash)
Open up them legs, I’m hungry
Bank account eruptin’ (Yeah)
I need me a safe or something (Yeah)
I’m a dirt bike riding junkie (C’mon)
I don’t need that Wraith for nothing (Let’s go)
But it’s a Wraith on my wrist or somethin’ (Skrrt)
Hoes wanna rape my wrist or somethin’ (All white)
Cops wanna raid my crib for nothing (Uh)
Just ’cause we black, that’s how they comin’ (Fuck 12, fuck 12, fuck 12)
Chasing the lean, rotting my brain, honestly
Drugs the only thing that’s faithful to me, sorry to say
Groupie hoes wanna come my way
Come take this pic and get out my face
That champagne glass on my kitchen counter
That’s codeine in it, no Ace of Spades
Wait wait wait, wait wait wait, nigga, wait
Nigga, it’s a wave, nigga, I’m a wave, you a slave
To these chains, forgettin’ about the road our forefathers paved
But hey, who am I to talk? I’m AP gang, a hundred fifty on my wrist, no case
Used to bein’ afraid, uh, coke on the dinner plate, uh
Brand new China set for the house, Versace dinner plates, uh
What your mama tell you about gettin’ involved?
You got you a gun but you still too soft
You ain’t gon’ shoot that bitch at all
If I got it on me, I’ma let that bitch off
Hot boy, young Lil Wayne shit, you see the socks boy
Plus I’m a Glock boy, new clip
Huggin’ a thot, boy, givin’ ’em top where they brain is
I’m a rockstar lifestyle livin’, dirt bike ridin’, totin’ stainless, I aim big
Bank account eruptin’
I need me a safe or something (I do)
I’m a dirt bike riding junkie (Uh-huh)
I don’t need that Wraith for nothing (Skrrt skrrt)
But it’s a Wraith on my wrist or somethin’ (Wrist)
Hoes wanna rape my wrist or somethin’ (Rape my wrist)
Cops wanna raid my crib for nothing (Raid my crib)
Just ’cause we black, that’s how they comin’ (I know it, yeah)
Chasing the lean, rotting my brain, honestly
Drugs the only thing that’s faithful to me, sorry to say
Groupie hoes wanna come my way
Come take this pic and get out my face
That champagne glass on my kitchen counter
That’s codeine in it, no Ace of Spades
Let me switch it up on y’all fuck niggas, haha
Dawn in denial, hey
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, whoa
Uh (Let’s go)
Double cup pleasure (Double)
Can I feel this way forever? (Forever)
It don’t matter how fucked up I get off of the drugs
Still giving my effort, all my effort
Phone line going AWOL, I’m the plug now
They act like my music is the new drug in town
The bees knees (the bees knees), I am
The bees knees (the bees knees), bitch, I am
The bees knees
It’s hard for these hoes to stay away
Now I got money, I can’t afford loyalty
‘Cause who the hell gotta pay for loyalty? Hey
To do what I do, you need a whole team
It’s child’s play to me, hey
The bees knees, I am
The bees knees, I am
OC
Never do coke, no, fuck a nosebleed
Bentley white guts, cocaine, no seats
Dust in the Benz, smokin’ ‘thrax
Countin’ up the racks, bitch, I’m the bees knees
I’m OC
Never do coke, no, fuck a nosebleed
Bentley white guts, cocaine, no seats
Dust in the Bentley, smokin’ ‘thrax
Countin’ up these racks, I’m the bees knees (I am the bees knees)
Hah, hah
Niggas not ready for this shit, homie
Listen to Juice talk, he talkin’ that talk
‘Cause you talkin’ to a boss
That’s real
My fault, I’m high
A death race for love
I ain’t just racin’ for love though (No I’m not)
My heart racin’
My money racin’ (facts), my mind racin’ (facts)
All black diamonds like I’m racist (huh, you dig?)
“Lucid Dreams” still on your bitch playlist (yes sir)
I took her and smiled and you lookin’ like, “How could she say this?”
Timeless music bitch (Thank God for me, me, me)
Smokin’ ‘thrax, countin’ racks (bees knees)
No fuck racks, need a black card
That’s how I’m gon’ show you I’m hard
Yeah where the Percs at now?
(Talk that talk, Juice, stop fuckin’ with these niggas)
I’m a businessman, so that mean I’m ’bout my business, man
Preach, Amen
(A businessman, I’m a businessman, nigga, a businessman, nigga)
ID got that shit, this boy got that shit
(No cap, no cap, no cap, no cap)
I know y’all seen them old videos of Dream Team playin’ basketball (Michael Jordan, Game 6, yeah yeah)
We just ran a three man weave
The bees knees
In an industry pulsating with superficial extravagance and relentless pursuit of fame, Juice WRLD’s ‘The Bees Knees’ emerges as a poignant narrative layered with complex themes of substance dependency, societal critique, and self-aware introspection. Through a cascading flow of raw lyrics against the backbeat of contemporary beats, Juice WRLD invites the listener into the crevices of his reality–one that is marred by the pitfalls of rapid success and the numbing embrace of drugs.
At a cursory glance, ‘The Bees Knees’ may present itself as another track that glorifies vices and vanity. However, delve deeper, and one discovers a lament, an indulgence, and a stark social commentary interwoven with personal anecdotes that both humanize and elevate the late artist to more than just a tragic hero of the hip-hop narrative.
The Seduction of Self-Destruction: Chasing Lean and Demons
Juice WRLD’s open confession ‘Chasing the lean, rotting my brain, honestly’ spirals listeners into the heart of darkness that underlies the glitz of the music industry. Here is an unapologetic admission of the self-destructive habits that both fuel and consume young stardom. Juice’s raw candor illustrates a battle with addiction that is often romanticized, but seldom so candidly portrayed in music.
The lyrics serve as a morbid ode to the solace found in narcotics; ‘Drugs the only thing that’s faithful to me, sorry to say,’ speaks to an unsettling reliance, bordering worship, of the only constant in a turbulent life of fame. The acceptance of his chemical mistress underscores the isolation felt even amidst adoring fans—a heart-wrenching paradox that is all too common in tales of prodigious talent.
The Lavish Loneliness of Limelight
Juice’s reference to ‘groupie hoes’ and an overflow of material wealth stands as a stark symbol of the loneliness that plagues those in the limelight. The requests for photos, the transient love affairs, and the gleaming materialism serve as hollow replacements for genuine connection. The kitchen counter, home to codeine rather than champagne, becomes a metaphor for how success has swapped celebration for sedation.
Through ‘Bank account eruptin’ / I need me a safe or something,’ Juice WRLD taps into the psyche of an individual whose life has become a paradox of wealth and confinement. The fortune amassed leads to a craving for normalcy, a place to store the physical manifestations of success that have ironically become burdens rather than boons.
Revealing the Veiled Racism Within Glitter
With a poignant reflection on racial injustice, Juice WRLD chisels out the harrowing reality beneath his fortune, ‘Cops wanna raid my crib for nothing / Just ’cause we black, that’s how they comin’.’ Here lies a powerful counter-narrative to his own brush strokes of fame, a sobering reminder of the systemic oppression that shadowboxes success.
Through these verses, Juice WRLD is not just a musician but an activist using his platform to shine a light on the discriminatory practices that persist, even when one has seemingly transcended societal barriers through celebrity. The hard-earned achievements cannot shield against entrenched racial biases – a bitter pill that no amount of syrup can sweeten.
TIMELESS MUSIC BITCH – The Stickiness of Memorable Lines
‘Lucid Dreams still on your bitch playlist,’ Juice WRLD declares, with a braggadocio that symbolizes both an affirmation of his influence and a critique of how superficially his artistry can be consumed. The retention power of his music, summarized in the tongue-in-cheek ‘TIMELESS MUSIC BITCH,’ highlights his understanding of the enduring impact his work has on individual listeners.
These memorable lines are Juice WRLD’s way of mocking the ephemeral nature of pop culture fame while simultaneously cementing his place in it. He revels in the irony that while his songs reside on playlists and in hearts, the reality they reflect is often ignored or unrealized by the same enamored audience.
Beyond the Buzz: Decoding ‘The Bees Knees’ Hidden Message
‘The Bees Knees’ orbits far beyond a drug-laced dialogue; it represents Juice WRLD’s self-crown as indispensable in the hive of hip-hop. Yet, the song’s declarations, ‘Never do coke, no, fuck a nosebleed / Bentley white guts, cocaine no seats,’ serve as a haunting allegory for Juice’s own internal conflict between the glorification of drugs and the awareness of their destructive power.
In this self-eulogy, Juice WRLD paradoxically claims sovereignty (‘I’m the bees knees’) while foreshadowing the possible self-annihilation his lifestyle begets. With every boast of resilience against a system rigged for his downfall, there exists a parallel plea for understanding the burden that accompanies carrying the world on one’s shoulders. ‘The Bees Knees’ is not merely an introspection but a call for a deeper listening—to hear not just the beat, but the heartbeat of an artist fighting against, and sometimes succumbing to, the rhythms of a treacherous industry.
