When Drake and Kendrick Lamar decided to go at each other, we knew that there was a chance for low blows; we just didn’t know we’d end up subterranean. The four tracks they exchanged on May 3 and 4 — Kendrick’s “Meet the Grahams” and “Not Like Us,” as well as Drake’s “Family Matters” and “The Heart Pt. 6” — have taken their rift into a dark place. Drake is calling Kendrick a domestic abuser, and Kendrick is calling Drake a pedophile. Now, we’re wondering how a war that was once conceivably about who’s the greatest lyricist has devolved into trying to parse through nasty abuse allegations.
Whether you believe Drake or Kendrick or neither, it’s undeniable that their mud-slinging abuse accusations are stripping women of their humanity, with the mother of Kendrick’s children being evoked by name and other alleged hypothetical victims being turned into chess pieces by two men at war. This dynamic threatens to diminish the spirit of their battle from a hip-hop competition into a gossip fest.
Both men hinted at having serious allegations about the other in store at the outset of the beef. Drake warned, “This ain’t even everything I know, don’t wake the demon up” on “Push Ups,” and Kendrick rhymed, “Don’t tell no lie about me and I won’t tell truths ’bout you” on “Euphoria,” a song with a title that already hinted at the “certified pedophile” allegations he would later levy on “Not Like Us.” On the surface level, both comments felt like mere gamesmanship. But with the actual accusations that followed, both artists (perhaps unknowingly) maintained hip-hop’s boys’ club, even while at odds. Essentially, each told the other I won’t mention your misdeeds unless I’m provoked. With that energy, it’s little surprise that men in rap so rarely have anything to proactively say about accusations made about the likes of Tory Lanez and Chris Brown.
The levee was breached on “Family Matters,” when Drake crooned, “I was tryna keep it PG,” then spent the second half of the song alleging that Kendrick is separated from his partner, Whitney Alford, and that he has assaulted her. If Drake thought the information would be a dagger, it only made him look like a hypocrite, as one of his close friends, rapper Baka Not Nice, pled guilty to assaulting a woman in 2015. (The human trafficking and prostitution charges he also faced were dropped after the woman declined to testify). While that friend was incarcerated and awaiting sentencing, Drake triumphantly rapped, “I might declare it a holiday as soon as Baka get back on the road” on If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late‘s “Know Yourself.” He also recently posted an Instagram story calling to “free” Tory Lanez, who was convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion in a 2020 incident. Elsewhere on “Family Matters,” he rhymes, “You know who even bang a set out there is CB,” apparently referring to Chris Brown, who has numerous allegations of violence toward women. Somehow Drake decided to shout out Brown and use him as a trump card over someone he’s chastising for alleged abuse.
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Just minutes later, Kendrick dropped “Meet the Grahams,” where he makes sordid allegations about Drake’s life, calling him a “predator,” alleging, “He got sex offenders on hoe-VO that he keep on a monthly allowance,” and telling Drake’s mother, “Your son’s a sick man with sick thoughts, I think niggas like him should die.” He raps with the tone of a fierce advocate for women who thinks Drake’s the worst man on earth. But Kendrick’s history unravels his moral high ground. In 2018, he stood by as his then-TDE boss Anthony “Top Dawg” Tiffith told Spotify he’d remove Kendrick’s music if their hateful-conduct policy targeting artists like XXXTentacion and R. Kelly stayed intact — a fact Drake noted on “The Heart Pt. 6.”
XXXTentacion was infamously accused of grisly abuse by his ex (some of which he admitted to on tape), while R. Kelly was sentenced to 30 years for racketeering and sex trafficking young women and girls. Despite their actions being public record, Kendrick was seemingly fine being used as leverage on their behalf. A similar observation can be made of Dr. Dre, Kendrick’s mentor and executive producer of Good Kid, m.A.A.d City, who has repeatedly been accused of assaulting women. (In 2015, the accomplished producer acknowledged those accusations, saying, “I apologize to the women I’ve hurt. I deeply regret what I did and know that it has forever impacted all of our lives.”) And on Kendrick’s most recent album, Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, Kodak Black appeared multiple times. The Florida rapper pled guilty to a lesser charge in a rape case where the alleged survivor claimed he said he “can’t help himself” while assailing her. These collective associations of Kendrick’s don’t paint the portrait of someone who has vitriol against men who hurt women, stifling the sting of his record.
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Things get more complicated with “Not Like Us,” with song art that posits Drake’s house as a sex offender haven and stamps Drake and his OVO team as “certified pedophiles.” The song has gone viral since its May 4 release. It’s a fun record, but digging past the DJ Mustard melody reveals a moral conflict in some of its lyrics. In his appraisal of the reaction to Diddy’s lawsuits, Vulture’s Craig Jenkins recently wrote, “We cannot continue on as before, though, teaching another generation to seek the slapstick in sex crimes,” referring to the phrase “No Diddy.” We have to ask ourselves the same at certain junctures in “Not Like Us.” It’s simple enough to laugh at an alleged pedophile being ridiculed. But if you believe the allegations, it means that there are girls who were exploited — which isn’t a festive realization. And even if you don’t believe it, the notion of young girls’ victimhood as a punchline is pretty sketchy. How do the fans of “Not Like Us,” including me, reckon with that?
It’s worth wondering what the amplification of these rumors about Drake and teenage girls will mean for his legacy. He’s one of the biggest rappers ever, and has pushed past the stigma of being a child actor, ghostwriting rumors, and the perception that he lost to Pusha T in their 2018 beef — but these allegations are much more serious. Will the stigma have a substantial effect on his career? What are his corporate ties thinking? It all remains to be seen. Even if Kendrick only brought it up to win a beef, the conversation should be reckoned with.
It’s important to note that Drake firmly denied the allegations on “The Heart Pt. 6,” a track where he doubles down on his claim that Kendrick assaulted Alford. Drake makes light of her alleged plight on “Family Matters,” rhyming, “When you put your hands on your girl, is it self-defense ’cause she bigger than you?” And at the end of “The Heart Pt. 6,” he says, “Whitney, you can hit me if you need a favor” as if he has a genuine interest in consoling her. But if he was respectful of women, he wouldn’t be airing out her alleged trauma in front of the world while accusing her of having a baby with one of Kendrick’s best friends. It doesn’t seem like she wants to be a public figure. Years ago, she made a Tumblr post where she noted “hiding my pain has been a technique I’ve mastered my whole life,” and said that after therapy, “I hear my own voice again.” Instead of respecting her privacy, Drake callously opted to disrupt her peace of mind for one-upmanship in a rap beef.
It’s typical for male rappers to snipe at opponents through the women in their lives. Just recently, on Chris Brown’s “Weakest Link” diss toward Quavo, he raps, “Stop talkin’ ’bout beatin’ girls, you was beatin’ bitches on the elevator/We seen the tapes, that’s devastatin’,” referring to an alleged 2021 incident between Quavo and Saweetie. The bar must be in hell when “You beat women too” is an acceptable beef angle. Brown also brags about sleeping with Quavo’s ex, a well-worn tactic that implies that women are property who aren’t supposed to have the agency to sleep with who they want. So often, women are evoked in rap beef either to flatten them to sexual conquests or trivialize their abuse, and the latter is often done the way Kendrick and Drake have, with the shit-eating kitsch of a movie antagonist looking to use the protagonist’s love interest against them. Everyone watching knows their nice guy routine is an act.
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Both Drake and Kendrick’s track records are spotted by cringeworthy alliances with people who have mistreated women. Most rap fans realize that the only reason either one is advocating against patriarchal violence now is to sway the court of public opinion. Now, fans are seeking to judge their rap war based on who actually abused who, a gross dynamic that highlights how normalized violence against women is. This was way more fun when it was focused on hair and height jokes.
Rap is a figuratively bloody arena. Low blows will be thrown, and exposals will happen. When it’s lampooning Rick Ross as a former correctional officer or putting Prodigy’s old photos on the Summer Jam screen, it’s all fair, because it’s about an opponent who can hold their own. But once the accusations rope in women who aren’t public figures and turn into trivializing abuse, things devolve from a war of wits into a Shade Room tea party, which is no fun for anyone. Women aren’t “big jokers” or “chess not checkers” fodder — they’re human beings who deserve advocacy beyond opportunistic ploys to rile the blogosphere.
