J. Cole won the Kendrick Lamar-Drake beef
The battle is over, and J. Cole won. The best-selling rapper’s gangsta move was to lay down his sword and apologize.
Hip-hop turned 50 years old last year, but it still needs to grow up. Cole’s badass performance of Black masculinity was exactly the sort of adult behavior the industry needs.
Cole ignited what has become the most-hyped beef in recent hip hop history by rapping on a song last year called “First Person Shooter.” In it, he describes himself, Drake and Kendrick Lamar as hip-hop’s “big three.”
Lamar responded a few months later with the lyric: “[Expletive] big three, it’s just big me.” This set off an epic series of diss records — eight songs in six days — between Lamar and Drake, culminating in Lamar’s “Not Like Us,” debuting this month at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Five other songs associated with the battle are in the Billboard top 20, but Cole’s “7 Minute Drill,” a vicious takedown of Lamar, is not one of them. Don’t get it twisted: The track, which Cole sent out early in the battle, holds its own with anything spat by Lamar or Drake. It’s not on the list because Cole took it off streaming services.
Cole’s song declared Lamar’s last album “tragic” and the one before it sleep-inducing. He suggested Lamar started the fight to obtain publicity: “If he wasn’t dissin’, then we wouldn’t be discussin’ him,” Cole claimed, whereas his own success is “off of bars, not no controversy.”
If hip-hop beefs stopped there, with shots fired pertaining only to aesthetic achievement, it would be all good: dispute resolution via poetry recitals.
But rap beefs seldom keep it that cute, especially when testosterone is a factor. “7 Minute Drill” was violence-adjacent. Lamar had name- checked his bodyguard, so Cole rapped, “How I look havin’ henchmen? If shots get to poppin’, I’m the one doin’ the clenchin’.” Discounting his hippie rep, Cole declared, “I pray for peace, but if a [person] cease these positive vibes, a Falcon 9 inside my pocket … this rocket gon’ fly.”
Par for the tired course. But what happened next was profound: Two days after the song dropped, Cole confessed to concertgoers it was the “lamest” and “goofiest” work he had ever done and didn’t “sit right” with his “spirit.” Cole pronounced Lamar one of the greatest MCs to ever touch a microphone. He asked fans to forgive his “misstep” and exited the battle.
Meanwhile, Lamar and Drake continued to tear each other apart, to commercial acclaim. Lamar accused Drake of being attracted to minors. Drake called out Lamar for alleged domestic violence and cheating on his fiancée, in stark contrast to his image as a family man.
If true, the allegations would crush both artists’ fan bases and potentially destroy Drake’s career. If false, the allegations amount to two of the most prominent Black men in pop culture attempting to ruin each other’s reputations in service of a dumb beef.
Most rap battles don’t result in physical violence, but that concern lurks in the background, and not only because one of the first beefs, between icons Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur, left both dead.
Police were involved in three incidents at Drake’s Toronto mansion this month, including the shooting of a security guard. This was the same home featured on the cover of Lamar’s “Not Like Us” track. It also happened after Lamar warned Drake that “someone gon’ bleed in your family.” Drake answered that he has “emptied the clip over friendlier jabs.” It’s all metaphorical — until it’s not.
Black men are uniquely at risk of homicide in the United States. We are about 6% of the population but around half of victims and perpetrators of homicide. Our most likely assailant is another brother.
I might sound like an old head wagging his finger and saying, “It’s funny until somebody gets hurt.” I’m cool with that. As a criminal law scholar, I have written about the structural roots of violent crime by Black men, including easy access to guns and growing up, as many of us do, in high-poverty communities. Still, it’s fair to ask if there are aspects of Black male culture, including the imperative to avenge perceived disrespect, that make bad situations worse and whether artists have a responsibility to do better and to encourage others to do the same.
Much respect to Cole for stepping up. His biggest hit, “No Role Modelz” was recorded in 2014, long before the recent lyrical shenanigans, but the title might be another, more benign “misstep.” Corny as it sounds, Cole is the perfect role model to lead hip-hop to a better place.