Kendrick Lamar and Drake’s public rivalry does more than entertain— it serves as a microcosm for larger discussions in hip-hop. Their fight for supremacy, entangled with both competitive flair and personal issues, brings into focus Drake’s often criticized path into hip-hop, challenging hip-hop enthusiasts to consider the authenticity of cultural entry points.
Hip-hop, as a cultural form created by African Americans, incorporates a variety of diasporic influences from African, Caribbean, and Afro-Latino cultures. However, its foundational roots remain in African American culture. Ideally, practitioners of hip-hop are members of these communities who not only shape the unique experience associated with hip-hop but also carry the responsibility of curating its customs and trends.
One of the glaring matters unfolding from the lyrical combat between Kendrick Lamar and Drake revolves around racial identity and one’s degree of connection to blackness. This initiates a larger, perhaps uncomfortable conversation, especially for enthusiasts of the “Family Matters” rapper, a subject considered taboo in mainstream forums where he has been successful for over a decade. For hip-hop purists who prioritize potent lyrical content that embodies the genre’s Black American aesthetic, the strength of one’s connection to blackness is key to assessing an artist’s proficiency.
In Lamar’s diss track to Drake, “Not Like Us,” the boogeyman of a phenomenon takes several opportunities to examine instances where he believes the OVO crooner hoodwinked elements of hip-hop culture to post positive on his career. The “they not like us” chant in the chorus, is likely Lamar alluding to the fact that rap practitioners in the likes of Drake are unlike his own caliber, one that organically abides by the given morals of Black culture.
The dual heritage of Drake, stemming from an African American father and a Jewish Canadian mother, has been a significant aspect of his personal narrative. Raised by his mother and educated at a Jewish school, Drake’s biracial identity often led to feelings of alienation. He discussed these feelings in depth in a 2010 interview with The Jewish Chronicle, where he described the difficulty of fitting into either the Black or Jewish communities. He elaborated on the social challenges this posed during his school years, explaining, “I went to a school where nobody understood what it was like to be Black and Jewish,” and how this ambiguity often left him feeling excluded from social circles.
Given his predominantly Jewish upbringing, it is reasonable to surmise that Drake was not extensively exposed to the dynamics of the Black community. However, as his heritage includes African American roots, elements of Black culture naturally hold appeal for him. This connection, though, is complicated by what Kendrick Lamar critiques in “Not Like Us,” where he suggests Drake’s portrayal of blackness—likening him to Malibu’s Most Wanted’s B-Rad, where the ‘B’ “stands for bitch”—is merely an adaptation to assuage his insecurities.
Kendrick Lamar’s formative years in Compton—a community heavily affected by the crack epidemic and characterized by its predominantly Black and Hispanic population—shaped his perspectives, as detailed in an 2012 interview with The Guardian during the promotion of his debut album, good kid, m.A.A.d city. Born into a family caught in the throes of gang life yet seeking escape, Lamar observed firsthand the impact of absent parents on his friends, many of whom had no parental guidance with fathers often incarcerated and mothers addicted. “But from the time they was born in the 1980s, when crack was everywhere, they had no figure to guide them. Father in jail, mother strung out,” Lamar recounted. He credited his more stable family environment, with both parents present, for giving him the confidence that many of his peers lacked.
Hip-hop has long been a voice for societal critique, a tradition inaugurated by tracks like 1982’s “The Message” by Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five. Renowned for its raw depiction of life’s struggles in poverty-stricken urban areas, the record features the unforgettable words of Melle Mel: “It’s like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder how I keep from going under.” Though applicable on a global scale, these words are a direct commentary on the impoverished conditions of the Bronx, making “The Message” one of hip-hop’s pioneering socially conscious records.
The importance of understanding both the history and the ongoing challenges faced by the Black community cannot be overstated, particularly in how it informs artistic creation. This principle underlies Kendrick Lamar’s critique in his diss track against Drake, where he raps, “Once upon a time, all of us was in chains / Homie still doubled down callin’ us some slaves / Atlanta was the Mecca, buildin’ railroads and trains.” Here, Lamar accuses Drake of not only misusing the term “slave” in “Family Matters” but also suggests that his collaborations with Black artists from Atlanta are calculated strategies rather than authentic connections. The inclusion of this historical reference amplifies Lamar’s message that Drake may be far removed from understanding the sensitive nuances of the Black experience.
The clash between Kendrick Lamar and Drake has acted as a catalyst, awakening dormant hip-hop fans and urging them to adopt a purist stance by delving into the nuanced lyrical battles between the two. This confrontation has effectively illustrated what happens when hip-hop artists authentically represent the environments that shaped them, or not. Both artists undoubtedly appeal to Black audiences, but the broader significance lies in the demand for fidelity to cultural representation, a demand upheld staunchly by hip-hop advocates across the board.