It’s been about two months since Drake got his wig pushed back. What started as subliminal jabs and sneak disses exploded into an all-out war and reached its zenith when Kendrick Lamar released Not Like Us back in May. Just when it seemed like the dust had settled, Kendrick said, hold my beer, dropped the music video just last week, and took a victory lap tap dancing on Drake’s grave. The rap battle between the two is the biggest rap beef in years, and it’s got people shook. It’s become more than just personal animosity and a good display of the sport of hip-hop; it’s a cultural wake-up call to ignite a cultural reckoning. Kendrick has positioned it as a battle for the very soul of hip-hop and to stop the dilution of its cultural roots.
To understand the weight of Kendrick’s disses, let’s talk about ownership and appropriation. Rap is an art form started in the 1970s in the Bronx that came from the struggles of the inner city. It spread to different regions of the US with a shared commonality that it gave voice to the oppression and struggles uniquely experienced in those Black communities. Cultural outsiders (white people) swooped in, borrowed styles and slang, and used Black oppression to cultural cosplay for profit, or they simply stole it and repackaged it all without understanding the history, acknowledging it, or giving back to the community that created it. We’ve seen this from rock ’n’ roll and Elvis to Vanilla Ice, and now Kendrick is postulating Drake. He paints him as a coloniser who grew up in a predominately white suburb of Toronto who hops from Atlanta to the Bay area, mimicking their style and putting on Black accents from the Caribbean and New York without fully understanding or repping that culture. Either you are from and down for the culture, or you are a culture vulture.
On Not Like Us, Kendrick drags Drake’s character within an inch of its life with Shakespearean-esque lyricism. Comparing Drake’s exploitation of Black culture to the historical exploitation of Black labour. Kendrick is a Pulitzer award-winning artist known for his wordplay and double entendres like the infamous lyric “Why are you trollin’ like a bitch? Ain’t you tired? Tryna strikes a chord, and it’s probably A-minor,” referring to music and the underage girls Drake hangs with (allegedly). He uses this lyricism to hurl personal attacks and critique the broader question of cultural appropriation and the commodification of Black culture.
Dropping the music video, co-directed by Dave Free and Kendrick Lamar himself, was just the cherry on top with a side of petty; of course, there’s symbolism and hidden meanings throughout the video. I mean, it’s Kendrick, after all. Mostly, it’s a celebration of hip-hop, specifically, the West Coast. It features Tommy the Clown, a local legend, Los Angeles landmarks, local rappers, and most importantly the people, the people who are from the hood and represent the hood. It’s a visual representation of the cultural capital Kendrick has. He said it himself: I’m what the culture is feeling. Can Drake say the same?