In the ever-simmering cauldron of hip-hop beefs, where old wounds reopen faster than a bad remix, Benzino has once again thrust himself into the spotlight with a audacious swing at two of rap’s enduring titans: 50 Cent and Eminem. On September 25, 2025, during a heated episode of the It’s Up There Podcast, the former Source magazine co-owner and perennial provocateur dropped a bombshell comparison, likening his own “legacy of authenticity” to 50 Cent’s street-hardened rise while shading Eminem as the “ghost in the machine” of manufactured success. But it was his startling “health over wealth” mantra—framed as a personal manifesto amid his ongoing mental health struggles—that ignited a firestorm. “I chose my sanity over stacks,” Benzino declared, tears welling as he recounted a near-fatal breakdown earlier in the year. “50 got the billions, Em got the plaques, but me? I’m alive to tell the tale. Health over wealth, every time.” The clip, shared across X and Instagram, has racked up over 5 million views, dragging Eminem unwillingly into the fray and eliciting a torrent of reactions from fans, foes, and former allies alike.

Benzino’s bold pivot isn’t born in a vacuum; it’s the latest flare-up in a feud that’s spanned two decades, blending personal vendettas with cultural critiques. Raymond Scott, aka Benzino, first clashed with Eminem in the early 2000s when, as a Source executive, he accused the Detroit phenom of being a “culture vulture”—a white outsider co-opting Black art for profit. The beef escalated when The Source slapped Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers LP with a controversial 4.5-mic rating (later downgraded in Benzino’s eyes), prompting Em to eviscerate him on tracks like “The Sauce” and “Nail in the Coffin.” 50 Cent, Eminem’s Shady Records protégé, piled on with “I Line ‘Em Up,” cementing Benzino as hip-hop’s punchline. Fast-forward to 2024, and Eminem reignited the embers on his surprise single “Doomsday Pt. 2,” where he quipped, “Benzino, still short-arming the game like he short on talent.” Benzino fired back with “Vulturius” and “Rap Elvis,” lackluster disses that critics lambasted as “crying over spilled mics.”

Enter 2025, and Benzino’s narrative has taken a darker, more introspective turn. The “health over wealth” claim stems from a harrowing December 2024 incident that nearly derailed him entirely. In a viral video unearthed by 50 Cent, Benzino—on his hands and knees in a dimly lit apartment—clutched a kitchen knife to his throat, sobbing uncontrollably as his then-girlfriend, Ashley Bell, pleaded, “No, no, no! Give me the knife!” 50 Cent, ever the troll, captioned the clip: “Benzino caught wildin’—knife play after she called the cops on him for allegedly beatin’ her. Health over wealth? More like help over hell.” Benzino later clarified it was a “manic rehearsal” for an indie film role, but the damage was done. Admitted to a Los Angeles mental health facility for 30 days, he emerged transformed, vowing to prioritize therapy over taunts. “I was chasin’ revenge, not recovery,” he admitted on the podcast. “50 built an empire on snitch docs—fake or not—and Em? He built his on ghostwriters and ghosts from the past. Me? I chose breathin’ over beefin’.”

The comparison to 50 Cent cuts deepest, reframing their long-simmering rivalry through a lens of reluctant respect laced with resentment. Benzino recounted a 2000 encounter at New York’s Hit Factory studio, where he claims he “saved” a then-up-and-coming 50 from a potentially deadly ambush by Ja Rule’s Murder Inc. crew. “I didn’t know Curtis like that, but I pulled him out the back door—hood code,” Benzino boasted. “Now look: he’s the first hip-hop rat, testifyin’ on federal papers to climb. I stayed silent, stayed street. That’s the difference.” (50 has long denied the “rat” allegations, calling the purported documents forgeries.) Benzino positioned himself as 50’s “uncrowned parallel”—both survivors of Queensbridge grit, both media manipulators (50 with G-Unit Films, Benzino with The Source), but where 50 amassed a $500 million fortune through Power and Vitamin Water deals, Benzino insists his “wealth” lies in uncompromised authenticity. “He sold his soul for screens; I sold mine back for sanity,” he said, drawing a stark “health over wealth” line in the sand.

Eminem’s unwilling involvement has fans divided, with many viewing Benzino’s jabs as a desperate bid for relevance. Slim Shady, now 52 and semi-retired after 2024’s The Death of Slim Shady (Coup de Grâce), has stayed mum, but his camp leaked a subtle clapback via a Shady Records Instagram story: a meme of Benzino’s knife video captioned “Still reachin’—for help.” The drag pulls Em into Benzino’s “culture vulture” redux, accusing him of “hidin’ behind white privilege while Black voices like mine get buried.” Benzino even looped in recent ghostwriting scandals, claiming Eminem’s “features eclipse his signee’s shine—ask 50, he knows the math.” It’s a callback to 50’s own gripes about Shady’s artist development, where tracks like Obie Trice and Bobby Creekwater fizzled under Em’s shadow.

Reactions have been as explosive as a freestyle cypher gone wrong, flooding social media with a mix of mockery, empathy, and outright outrage. On X, #BenzinoBreakdown trended for 48 hours, amassing 1.2 million posts. Supporters hailed his vulnerability as “real rap therapy,” with one viral thread from user @HipHopHealer reading: “Benzino spittin’ truth—50’s a mogul, Em’s a myth, but Zino’s alive. Health > Wealth, period. Rap needs more raw like this.” Comedian Lil Rel Howery chimed in: “Man, we clown too quick. Seen that knife vid? That’s a cry for help, not clout. Respect the comeback.” Even Ja Rule, no stranger to 50’s wrath, posted a rare olive branch: “Zino held it down in ’00—facts. Fif, chill on the mental health shade.”

But the drags were merciless. 50 Cent, true to form, unleashed a barrage on his Instagram, sharing Benzino’s podcast clip with laughing emojis and the caption: “Health over wealth? You mean ‘help over hustle’—go touch grass, shorty. Em don’t need your validation; he got plaques you can’t reach.” The post garnered 3 million likes, spawning memes of Benzino’s arms (a running joke from Em’s disses) photoshopped onto therapy couches. Rap pundits piled on: DJ Akademiks live-tweeted, “Benzino comparin’ to 50? That’s like comparin’ a scooter to a Lambo. And draggin’ Em? Bro, you lost that war in 2003.” Reddit’s r/hiphopheads erupted in a 2,000-comment thread titled “Benzino’s ‘Health Over Wealth’—Delusional or Deep?”, split 60/40 against him. One top comment: “He’s right about one thing: health matters. But usin’ it to shade legends? Nah, that’s poverty of spirit.”

The “health over wealth” ethos, while poignant, hasn’t shielded Benzino from skepticism. Critics point to his post-crisis moves—a string of low-budget singles like “Sanity Check” and a Patreon for “uncut beef tapes”—as proof he’s still chasing checks, not couches. His daughter, Coi Leray, broke her silence on IG Stories: “Dad’s fightin’ demons we all got. Y’all laugh, but family sees the real. Prayers up.” It’s a rare familial endorsement amid Benzino’s tabloid-tarnished rep, from Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta drama to paternity scandals. Yet, in a genre that glorifies grind over grace, his admission resonates with a new wave of artists prioritizing wellness—think Logic’s suicide prevention advocacy or Kendrick Lamar’s meditative bars.

As September 2025 draws to a close, Benzino’s gambit has inadvertently spotlighted hip-hop’s mental health reckoning. The It’s Up There episode, now the podcast’s most-streamed, features Benzino in therapy-group vulnerability, crediting sessions for his “rebirth.” “I could’ve been another stat—overdosed on ego,” he reflects. “50 chose the boardroom, Em the booth, I chose the couch. Who’s richer?” It’s a question echoing through fan discourse, with petitions circulating for a Shady-Benzino sit-down moderated by 50 himself—half-joke, half-hope for closure.

For Eminem, the drag is a footnote in a legacy of lyrical landmines, but it underscores his enduring shadow: even in silence, he dominates the conversation. 50 Cent, meanwhile, thrives on the chaos, his Power Book V promo indirectly boosted by the buzz. And Benzino? In declaring “health over wealth,” he’s carved a niche as rap’s reluctant philosopher-king—flawed, feisty, and finally free. Whether it’s redemption or relevance, one thing’s clear: in hip-hop’s hall of mirrors, every comparison cuts both ways, and this one’s left scars that might just heal.