Meaning and Lyrics of Total 90 by Jeshi

Jeshi’s “Total 90” is a sharp and poignant reflection on struggle, survival, and the bittersweet nature of success. Through deceptively straightforward lyrics, Jeshi paints a vivid picture of his past and present, seamlessly transitioning between nostalgia and present-day realities of fame.

The Intro immediately sets the mood: “It wasn’t easy / But nothing’s easy.” This line functions as both a summary of the song’s thematic core and a prelude to the intricate tapestry of memories and emotions Jeshi is about to unravel. The choice to start with this statement suggests a retrospective tone, where the artist is looking back, acknowledging the hardships while underscoring a stoic acceptance of life’s inherent struggles.

In Verse 1, Jeshi dives into detailed vignettes of his youth, cloaked in the aesthetic of the “Total 90s.” This reference not only situates the listener in a specific era but also conjures images of that quintessentially gritty 90s lifestyle. Boarding school tales, suspended but played cool – these moments are emblematic of youthful defiance and resilience. The line “Way before I ever popped a bean, I had Heinz beans, toast on my plate” cleverly juxtaposes the ordinary with the illicit, highlighting a transition from simplicity to complexity. BMX rides, dodging addicts, and associating with streetwise characters, all contribute to an atmosphere thick with urban grit and survivalist mentality.

Jeshi’s casual reference to “Christmas, but I never had a dad over” injects a stark, personal sadness into the narrative, turning what could have been a universal festive experience into a symbol of isolation and absence. The line “Never needed much (No)” reinforces a survivalist, minimalist philosophy, which contrasts sharply with the upcoming themes of success and material wealth in Verse 2.

The Chorus is a repetitive mantra: “It wasn’t easy / But nothing’s easy” – delivered with a mix of resignation and defiance. The recurring “Woo-hoo” adds a mocking, almost sarcastic edge, as if to juxtapose the depth of the message with a seemingly light-hearted interlude. Jeshi seems to be challenging the listener to understand that behind the catchy hook lies real struggle and pain.

Verse 2 traverses the jagged landscape of newfound wealth and the alienation that often accompanies it. Jeshi’s assertion, “I got more money than I’ve ever had, but I can’t help my sisters with the problems they have,” sharply critiques the illusion that success and wealth can solve deep-seated personal issues. His reminiscence about “the bucket with the crabs” is a stark metaphor for the competitive and often ruthless environment from which he emerged, where individuals pull each other down in their bid to escape.

The emotional turmoil subtly escalates as he speaks about his grandmother, a grounding figure in his life, juxtaposing the ephemerality of fame against the permanence of family bonds and memories. The image of him “Clench[ing] cig with a lockjaw” vividly portrays his inner tension and unresolved stress, serving as a visceral reminder of the visceral impacts of his journey.

The reprise of the Chorus and Outro reinforces the ineluctable truth that “nothing’s easy.” They hammer home the recurring theme of struggle, dissatisfaction, and the hollowness of success. The repetition enhances the sense of a cyclical, never-ending battle, where every gain is shadowed by lingering discontent.

“Total 90” is ultimately a lyrical exploration of contrasts: past versus present, poverty versus wealth, contentment versus longing. Jeshi’s raw, candid storytelling invites listeners into his world, offering a nuanced portrayal that transcends simple glorification or lamentation. He acknowledges the inevitable trials of life, without romanticizing them. In doing so, Jeshi carves out a space for authenticity that resonates deeply, compelling listeners to reflect on their own perceptions of struggle and success.