Album Cover via Kendrick Lamar/Instagram
The Bay Area doesn’t sleep, and neither does Yousef Srour.
Before internet trolls began using AI to mimic their favorite artists, before the Certified Legal Boy used speech synthesis to emulate 2Pac and Snoop Dogg, Kendrick Lamar was K. Dot. Barely out of his teens, the Westside Compton native was trying to figure out his own sound while paying tribute to the older masters.
On his 2005 TDE debut, Training Day, the 18-year old good kid rapped over beats from Kanye and Dilla, Biggie and Snoop. It was clear from these very first recordings that Kendrick was an artist unafraid to reveal the source code. Several years and countless hours spent refining his style later, K.Dot dropped 2009’s “Kurupted,” which found him again proudly acknowledging another totemic inspiration.
The nascent K.Dot wore his influence on his sleeves. He exhibited a classicist study of everyone from Jay-Z to Outkast, DMX to Quik. You can hear pieces of Death Row and Suga Free, Earl Stevens and Eminem. There’s even an entire C4 mixtape where Kendrick spits over Carter III beats; “West Coast Wu-Tang” is a rare exception, a song where he, Punch, and Ab-Soul rip the beat from “Tearz.”
Sometime in 2010, K.Dot rebranded himself Kendrick Lamar. He now proudly wielded a Dr. Dre co-sign, which was then nearly the only way for a rapper to break out from Los Angeles. By the time that he dropped his 2011 breakout, Section .80, Kendrick was already regarded as the next West Coast savior – the closest thing that the city had ever seen to a young Nas. At the Henry Fonda Theater in Hollywood, The Game passed the torch to the rapper who kicked off his debut studio album with a Obama-era kumbuya banger called “Fuck Your Ethnicity.”
It was reductive to call Kendrick Lamar a “conscious rapper.” But in the same way that Kanye was the first backpacker with a Benz, Kendrick was the theatrical bridge between Project Blowed and “Picture Me Rollin.” He wasn’t exactly a gangsta rapper, nor was he quite a boom-bap traditionalist. He was an ’80s baby, lamenting a generation wracked by pills and cough syrup, trying to figure a new path forward while preserving his integrity and tradition.
In many respects, this has always been the mission. Kendrick followed Section 80 with a fusillade of Grammy-winning concept-ish albums: good kid, m.A.A.d city, To Pimp a Butterfly, DAMN., and Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers. They tackled his upbringing in Compton, the current state of racial inequity, the industrial prison complex, and the virtues, vices and traumas that have haunted his interpersonal relationships. He’s weaved through multiple personas from Kendrick Lamar Duckworth to King Kunta to Kung Fu Kenny to the flawed messiah Mr. Morale. There have been therapy sessions with Eckhart Tolle and visits from the Pulitzer Prize committee. But on GNX, it feels like we are witnessing the return of K.Dot.
GNX is the resurrection of the gruff, battle-scarred king of the West Coast. The reincarnation of ‘Pac; the only rapper with the audacity to name check Snoop Dogg and Lil Wayne on the intro and elicit a reaction in less than 24 hours. DSPs don’t decipher between anything other than albums, singles, and EPs, and since Kendrick insists on a veil of ambiguity, we have no choice but to assume this project is actually his sixth studio album. But what GNX feels most like is a twelve-track, big-budget, blog-era mixtape.
The mixtape is a major triumph in the evangelization of LA regional street rap. Coming off the most streamed diss song in hip-hop history, Lamar chose to return to his roots and showcase the current generation of gang-affiliated rappers – further disabusing outsiders of the notion that G-Funk still reigns as the predominant style in California. The “squabble up” video documents this ongoing evolution of culture, dropping easter eggs from the Trunk Boiz’s scraper bike in an ode to the Hyphy Movement, a real life recreation of Ice-T’s Power album art, nods to Menace II Society (RIP Cousin Harold) and appearances from LA rising stars (CUZZO5), regional legends (G Perico) and almost everyone in between.
If you’re listening to it as a pure homage to his West Coast contemporaries and predecessors, GNX is an impressive showcase of Kendrick Lamar’s versatility and love for the LAnd. You can’t trademark lingo. You can’t copyright a flow. You can’t patent a style. As an innovator, master synthesist and Hub City icon, Lamar has a legitimate cultural birthright to all of this stuff. And after all, this is rap music, you aren’t required to cite footnotes. But since Lamar is an artist so outspoken about following a moral code and exuding a sense of righteousness, it raises an underlying philosophical question: if your latest inspirations veer dangerously close to imitation, are you ethically obligated to acknowledge the truth?
In many respects, this is part of the game. Muddy Waters frequently spoke about learning the craft by copying Son House. Kurt Cobain shouted out the Pixies, covered the Vaselines and the Meat Puppets, and even brought The Germs’ Pat Smear into Nirvana. And in his early days, Lamar made no secret of acknowledging his formative influences. Even now, he incorporates hundreds of easter eggs in his music videos to the point where it’s practically a West Coast cultural Where’s Waldo?
So let’s just come out and say it: there is something eerily unsettling about the way that Drakeo the Ruler has come to inform Lamar’s latest style – especially because of the circumstances of his death and the complete refusal to acknowledge his existence. And yes, there is the stifling notion of “politics” that plagues and defines all L.A. street rap, but we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about Art. And over the last 3 years Kendrick has leaned so heavily into Drakeo’s style that it’s unavoidable: he appropriates the blasé swagger, the nonchalant eyerolls, and the slang – even the way that he enunciates syllables.
Six months after Drakeo the Ruler’s murder, Kendrick first paid tacit tribute to LA’s most influential artist on Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers’ “Rich Spirit.” He subtly incorporated his cryptic vernacular, imitating the way he’d say “ugh” in his adlibs, and channelled the aesthetic and feel of his “Impatient Freestyle.” The whole West Coast may have realized that “mudwalking” on “Purple Hearts” was a Drakeo original, but Dot was nonetheless artfully dipping into South Central’s cultural cache while maintaining a sound that felt unique to him and his longtime producer, Sounwave.
Two years later, Kendrick attacked Drake’s cultural legitimacy within hip-hop in an all-hands-on-deck rap beef. He telegraphed his agenda on “Euphoria:” “What I learned is n****s don’t like the West Coast, and I’m fine with it, I’ll push the line with it.” “Not Like Us” took it one step further. On the Mustard-produced song of the summer, Kendrick lifted a variation of Drakeo’s flow from “Mr. Get Dough.” In an ironic twist, this was the song that sparked Drakeo’s career after Mustard “remixed” the beat (which to be fair was inspired by him), added RJ and Choice to the track and shot a video. It’s hard to know where the creative chain starts and ends. After all, Picasso aptly said that “good artists borrow, great artists steal.” But at what point does the semantic distinction between the two ideas become clear? And can’t great artists also be guilty of borrowing?
“hey now” and “peekaboo” are direct callbacks to Drakeo’s hushed and hilarious murmurs. And to add to the signifiers, Kendrick chose to include an artist who Drakeo was feuding with before his death. The latter song is practically a reference track to Drakeo’s “Boogieman:” from the subtly ominous soundscape, the cadence of the claps and 808s, right down to the eighth-note syncopation within their bars. Disregarding yet another unequivocal Drakeo reference (“Big Face Buddha” versus “Mr. Bank Budda”), “hey now” is Kendrick at his best. He snarls throughout the hook and his verses, the delivery is scathing, and he realizes the ultra-dark whispers of Bris and Young Slo-Be while maintaining their bite and love for blue strips.
It’s possible to interpret the entire thing as a tribute to the contemporary sound of the West Coast. After all, “wacced out murals” plays like a riff on Nipsey Hussle’s “Last Time That I Checc’d.” Featured on Victory Lap’s “Dedication,” Kendrick utilized the double Cs typically associated with the Crips and Rollin’ 60s, while also referencing the line “There was no smut on my rep,” by recounting a golden piece of advice: “Never let no one put smut up on your name.”
The entire album is filled with cameos from LA’s next generation of artists: Wallie the Sensei, Peysoh, Siete7x, Lefty Gunplay, and Dody6. In particular, Dody6 offers a standout verse on “Hey Now,” juxtaposing Kendrick’s ascending synths and “Spaceships on Rosecrans.” Painting his face “like the Joker,” he goes back-and-forth with Kendrick with impressive charisma. (And let’s not forget that Dody6 released an album in 2023 titled Hood Trophy Business, featuring Ralfy the Plug on “The Plug” – all in homage to Drakeo’s 2017 track, “Hood Trophies.”)
The refrain in GNX comes from Deyra Barrera, a mariachi singer originally from Villa Juárez, Sonora. Her voice grazes the soul of LA, opulently presenting the album as if she was in Mulholland Drive’s Club Silencio. It’s an ode to the Mexican culture that defines the Los Angeles rap scene and the city itself. This too is a major theme of the album: from Huntington Park (Peysoh and MoneySign Suede’s original place of residence) to Baldwin Park (Lefty Gunplay’s hometown).
The highs are higher than almost any album released this year. “squabble up” converts the snippet from the “Not Like Us” music video into an electric Debbie Deb-sampled club banger, taking LA back to its Power 106/The Beat roots when the song would be played almost hourly. The vibrato in Dot’s voice when he says “I feel good, get the fuck out my face” is wonky and matches the buzz of the thumping saw bass, and the call-and-answer on the bridge makes it impossible to not sing along like the “OV-Hoe” crowd shouts on “Not Like Us.”
The title track, “gnx,” might be the project’s greatest achievement. Kendrick taps HittaJ3 from Meet The Whoops, Young Threat, and Peysoh for a discordant reclamation of this modern West Coast revival. Hearing the three rappers go toe-to-toe, each of them distinctively rapping with no allegiance to anything other than the downbeat, feels like it circles the tape’s thesis. Here are two Compton rappers, a young Maywood success story, and a South Central star from the Shady 80s, all coming together to fuse off-kilter piano keys into a unified stance. Together, they prove that the West’s music scene is vital, thanks to what was once the fastest car on the road: Buick’s 200-horsepower Grand National.
If GNX’s sole purpose is to introduce the world to the contemporary sound of West Coast hip-hop, it succeeds on those terms. Yet it feels more like an emperor offering his imprimatur more than the innovation that we’ve come to expect from Lamar. For someone who has espoused the importance of unity – an undeniably good thing – there are notable absences that would have effectively conveyed this rapprochement. You can argue that Lamar’s purpose was to introduce the up-and-coming class of L.A. artists, but it’s hard not to wonder how much more effective it would have been if he’d enlisted 03 Greedo, Ralfy the Plug, X4, 1TakeJay, Big Sad 1900, or (the horror) asked for a posthumous Drakeo feature. Instead of introducing you to the biggest names in Los Angeles, Kendrick seemingly obscures the actual originators of the sound.
Imitation may be the highest form of flattery, but Kendrick Lamar remains the most commercially and culturally impactful rap artist from Los Angeles since 2Pac. He’s garnered 17 Grammy wins over the course of his career. His platform serves as an introduction to West Coast hip-hop for hip-hop heads and casual listeners alike. You can say that gang politics make all these things impossible. But this is Kendrick Lamar we’re talking about. The man who reminds us on “reincarnated” that he “put one hundred hoods on one stage.” The first rapper to win a Pulitzer Prize. The Grammy darling. The man who may not be our savior, but who bears a diamond-encrusted Crown of Thorns. He can do anything he wants. The entire world is at his disposal.
GNX was the ultimate opportunity to redirect attention, offer sympathy, or at least say Drakeo’s name. Or he could do a real interview and answer a question about it. Hell, he could post “Boogieman” on his Instagram story. Lamar is one of the few artists who consistently accepts criticism and he excels through self-exploration and deep empathy. However, Kendrick has refused to speak candidly. He hasn’t done an interview since 2022, and even when he does participate, music is rarely a part of the conversation. Where Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers is about moral hypocrisy, GNX is an example of creative subterfuge.
Kendrick’s last interview – though more of an artist on artist conversation – was conducted by SZA, who’s featured on “luther” and “gloria.” The former sounds like an original demo for “LOVE.” and the latter sounds heavily inspired by Makaveli’s “Me And My Girlfriend,” substituting Pac’s gun for his pen. When you give credence to the idea that GNX is a mixtape, the mimicry feels genuine, but without being asked the hard questions, it’s difficult to hear more than a tasteful reproduction.
GNX begs the question: how different is this from Jay Z stealing the swag from Young Chris? How about when Drake stole “Hotline Bling” from DRAM’s “Cha Cha”? The list of grievances against Aubrey Graham are seemingly endless, but at least he went out of his way to record “Talk To Me” with Drakeo over three and a half years ago. Drake gave him his respect while he was still alive, whereas “Not Like Us” and GNX as a whole feel a bit less compelling because Kendrick Lamar continues to channel Los Angeles’ most influential rapper without putting flowers on the grave. The murder remains unsolved. Even mentioning his name out loud is considered a brazen violation of an often ignored code. So much of Lamar’s music is about a search for justice and a deeper honesty. No matter what the politics are, these notions shouldn’t stop here.
This is where the fog of mystery becomes particularly frustrating. As K. Dot, Kendrick Lamar transparently claimed his influences, unafraid to sound exactly like Kurupt and Wayne. Even now, he has essentially a 2Pac cover on his latest album. But when it comes to contemporary West Coast rap, he’s conspicuously misdirecting the roots of his stylistic shift. There’s something regressive and perhaps cynical about directly copying the styles of younger artists from Drakeo the Ruler and the Stinc Team, to the whisper rappers in Northern California. The offbeat lingo and rhythm of Sacramento’s Bris and Stockton’s Young Slo-Be was similarly influenced by Drakeo, but they developed it into their own sub-genre. Slo-Be infamously called it “smirkish music,” with each exhale slowly slithering down your spine, cutting devilishly gruesome bars with one-liners and punchlines. Stockton, Sacramento, and South Central’s sound are laced throughout “squabble up,” “hey now,” and “tv off,” yet Kendrick never even comes close to acknowledging any of them or their work. And may I remind you, it’s never too late.
In a way, GNX is most reminiscent of the recent Beyoncé country music album, which felt undeniably authentic given her Texan roots, but clearly timed for 2024 when it would boost her career the most. A calculated plot twist more than a natural evolution. Regional LA hip-hop is obviously nowhere near the same stratosphere as country music, and it’s refreshing to hear new up-and-coming talent, but when you have the entire world watching after a beef with a megastar, Kendrick had a golden opportunity to showcase the full breadth of the city’s rap scene.
For the first time in his career, Kendrick feels slightly behind the curve. This is unquestionably a win for the city and it feels like a genuine love letter to the culture that Lamar has so irrevocably shaped. But this is an artist who has consistently delivered unpopular truths – and on GNX, it’s undisputed who is being ignored and what is being left unsaid.
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