In a genre defined by personality and individuality, Kendrick Lamar remains a style unto himself.
Lamar arrived famous. His early work echoes the decade-old sounds of rap royalty who reigned before him. To date, he is still the only non-classical or jazz artist to win a Pulitzer Prize for Music.
His rap feud with Drake drew yet more attention, which culminated in Lamar’s diss-track haymaker “Not Like Us.” Ask the internet who won the feud, and it’s not even close. It left Lamar not only victorious but standing alone at the pinnacle of stardom.
The accolades, the acclaim, the affluence associated with Lamar continue to announce his preeminence in and outside of the most influential musical space in culture.
All of which makes GNX, Lamar’s sixth album, a revealing release.
His vintage and brutal takedowns of detractors are subdued, hidden in the shadows of beats more tender and stripped down than he’s shown before. His work has always been autobiographical, but he’s pulling back the family and personal curtain to a degree few creatives attempt at this level.
But for all his innovation in sound, when it comes to lyrics, Kendrick is still Kendrick.
His classic rhythm still floats with vulgar outbursts of profanity and grotesque imagery. His pettiness has never been more at the center. His tunnel vision and commitment to making sure everyone knows he’s still the top dog in this rap economy begs the question: Is there anything here really worth caring about?
Lamar has never lacked confidence. The sort of confidence that powers an ego and self-worth toward immunity against the vitriol associated with a rap star of his standing.
He spends much of GNX addressing both named and anonymous opponents with admissions that he hears them, but that their verbal assaults don’t so much fall on deaf ears as they carry no effect on the ears that hear them.
“Reincarnated” wonders if Lamar’s reputation can change over time. Even as he learns how to grow and evolve he demands an answer to the question, “Can you promise that you won’t take your gifts for granted?” echoing a sentiment of regret for the harm he’s caused in previous relationships.
On “Man at the Garden,” Lamar says, “I see you as a human first/Even when you didn’t understand your worth.” And later, “Keep all my blessings faithfully/Keep my essence contagiously, that’s okay with me.” Inherent value endures as a shared theme across Lamar’s work as subtle religious references often pop up on GNX continuing a trend in his discography.
As covered previously, “Luther” is a track marked by an attempt to respect and protect those he loves. But in doing so he often causes the very harm he wishes to avoid.
As its enduring image, the Buick GNX framed in the album cover serves as both reminder and portent. As a reminder, the car is part of his origin, inseparable from his past. (Lamar claims he was driven home in a GNX after he was born with his dad blasting Big Daddy Kane). And as a portent, the car represents Lamar’s ongoing evolution as a rapper, father, and cultural figure clinging to his roots but longing to move past them.
Transformation and renewal are common themes in Lamar’s work. And while he often sprinkles religious ideas in his music, the misplaced slants of his theology harm what could be an earnest attempt at restoration of a troubled life.
Instead, his signature profanity-packed rhymes about feeling discounted and overlooked surge to the surface.
“Wacced Out Murals” is a one-breath inhalation of spewing the hate he claims to receive back towards his opponents. Lines such as, “Ayy, f— anybody empathetic to the other side” and “F— apologies, I want to see y’all geeked up” do little to convince a listener of someone committed to forgiveness and moving on.
“Sqaubble Up” focuses on a Lamar fed up with the attention and demanding the nameless and faceless to “get the f— out of my face.”
“Heart pt. 6” is a twisty, dense declaration of Lamar’s next career moves as he says, “Now it’s about Kendrick, I wanna evolve, place my skillset as a Black exec.” He continues to say, “To all my young n—–, let me be a demonstration/How to conduct differences with healthy conversation.” (In an ironic blend of uncharacteristic self-awareness, Lamar knows that he’s the last one to follow when looking for how to handle criticism and backlash in public or private.)
On “Gloria” Lamar shifts his attention to his romantic partnership to focus on how he “didn’t fully trust you.” He goes on to describe the fallout of this relationship. “I gave you life, I’m the m———— charisma in this b—-.” But he confusingly ends with the claim that “Ain’t no b—- like my b—– cause my b—- got that pen.”
“Reincarnated” opens with Lamar pondering if his life would have been better served in a different, reincarnated version of himself. He nods to his alternative timelines and paths, but ultimately he concludes that he’s supposed to be Kendrick Lamar. This conclusion leads him to say, “I’m ashamed that I ever created an enemy” as he wonders what life might have looked like if his father didn’t pass away and if Lamar never became a rapper.
Penned as an ode to his hometown of Compton, California, “Dodger Blue” veers from its mild opening towards threatening outward violence as he says, “On my kids, I sock you n—– up…Shut the f— up and keep it rap.”
“TV Off” reveals Lamar meditating on the noise threatening to consume his focus. He ultimately channels his closed perspective towards hate saying, “B—-, I cut my granny off if she don’t see it how I see it.”
Nearly each song contains harsh profanity and excessive references to drugs, alcohol, sex, and lewd descriptions of both females and males.
Sitting with GNX, I’m reminded that listening to Lamar can feel acrobatic, even balletic at times. He reaches new musical heights and pushes the boundaries of modern rap with each successive release, and it can feel that he’s inventing a new form as he writes.
Dig long enough into his autobiographical lyrics, and the musical gymnastics start to unwind into a clear vision for who Kendrick really thinks he is.
Shed focus from the rapping, the attention to detail, the meticulous promotion, and what remains is a self-affirmation forged by doubt and fear that he’ll never be enough or live up to the expectations.
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he tells us.
It’s unfortunately a criminally popular misquote of Shakespeare to the point that Kendrick even crafted a song and album cover in its image.
The true quote hailing from Henry IV reads “uneasy is the head that wears the crown,” which perhaps better captures the emotional tempest swirling within Lamar.
Within that swelling confidence is a desperate uneasiness wondering if he’s ever going to be enough. GNX admits he’s still thinking about it.
Despite his success, the threats, the feuds, the nagging doubts still get to him. For as much as he discusses evolution and change, Lamar remains tethered to his harmful cycle of demanding an eye for an eye and wondering why he feels no relief. His search points to the hope that he (like so many before him) will discover something lasting one day.
Jackson Greer is a High School English Teacher in the suburbs of Texas. He lives in Coppell, Texas with his wife, Clara. They love debating whether or not to get another cat and reading poetry together. Also, he is a former employee of Focus on the Family’s Parenting Department.
