In "West End Tavern," Benny the Butcher and his Black Soprano Family crew trade verses about surviving the trap, flaunting luxury, and staying armed against rivals. The contrast between cherry red sports cars and bodies slumped over stairs shows how quickly success can turn violent. A crackhead’s lonely texts and the line about dying a superhero or living long enough to become a villain capture the emotional cost of that life. The song lands on pride in outlasting struggle, even when survival means staying cold.
West End Tavern Lyrics by Benny the Butcher
(Feat. Elcamino, Rick Hyde, Sule, Black Soprano Family, Fuego Base)
Yo
Yo, uh, yo
Cherry red C8, these niggas can’t see me
Hoppin’ out the V12, you prolly see me
On the TV If I fall up in Louis, I spend
The 20 thousand easy When I’m in the ATL
Hoes treat me like I’m Jeezy Trappin’ ain’t
Dead, the blammer on the stairs The grams
Under the aim, playin’ with racks They left
Son slumped all on his head This whip laid
Back, we left pump crumbs all on his head
Blew off his wave cap, spilled his runts
Bl blunt all on his leg Uh
Beyoncé gifted
This shit panned out so good, it’s Beyoncé
Scripted
These niggas actin’ like hoes, that’s Beyoncé
Bitches
G-Lock 17, 23, 40, they all switches
Say a prayer for the opps, cause it’s all
Ditches They moved KD to Houston, the score
Shifted
I whipped the fuck out the Beamer like some
Fork clicking
So much Ricky reloaded, had the fork lift
It
Yo
Yo, I’m driving Batmobile shit only, the
Big homie Been at this bitch house for a
Week, and she still feel lonely
This crackhead bitch, she used to steal from
Me Used to send me weird texts saying she
Wanna chill with me
I told that spaced out bitch
I can’t deal with it Said she used to be
The baddest bitch out, she kept it real with
Me
I been on this gangster shit since a lil’ nigga
Shooting out the fiend red hot, I
Ain’t been in therr Waking up to the food
On an empty stomach It’s such a forbidden
Feeling You’ll die as the superhero or
Live to be switched to villain This Benny
On Tanah Talk This is Esco on It Was Written
You sick, I’m antibiotics I swear that my
Penicillin Transfigure stress to a sermon
All I really know is bar endurance The drive
Get these niggas quotes It’s like car insurance
Toe tag on your seat was a closed casket
Whippin’ two foreigns, that’s two sports
I’m Bo Jackson, it was dirty denim Look
Now I’m dressed in chrome off the metronome
The rot you niggas threw at my trepid’ home
Was a stepping stone I mean struggle, bitch
I sweat and bleed hustle Sue Soprano straight
From Jersey Ripped Inf’ and freed Duffy nigga*
What
