In To Pimp A Butterfly, Kendrick Lamar confronts the trappings of fame through the suffocating realities of being a Black man in America. Following the success of his debut album good kid, m.A.A.d city, his sophomore release delves into the tension between his rise to prominence and the dark forces of fame. In “Wesley’s Theory,” Kendrick portrays a young man from Compton who comes into fortune, while the second verse is delivered through the point of view of Uncle Sam. Through this track, Lamar sheds light on the dangerous allure of money, fame, and temptation, offering acute insight into the predatory nature of the music industry.
But To Pimp A Butterfly goes further. Tracks like “u” dive deep into Kendrick’s psyche, exposing the insecurities, self-loathing, and dark secrets that wealth and success can’t erase. It’s an exploration of survivor’s guilt—how a young artist from humble beginnings grapples with his success and the weight of the industry’s manipulation. The album unearths a well-worn pattern in the music world: Black artists are often raised to iconic status, only to be discarded or destroyed once their commercial value wanes. This isn't to say that Ye shouldn’t be held accountable for the vile commentary that has led to his severe backlash, but how do we forget that the man once signed a lifetime contract with EMI that forbade him from retiring? “They try to rig the game, but they can’t fake influence.”
Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly cemented his status as one of hip-hop’s most important figures—a critical darling whose work was finally acknowledged by award shows that have historically overlooked hip-hop. Yet, what makes Kendrick truly stand out isn’t just his lyrical mastery. It’s his ability to remain distant from the very fame that he critiques. Through this, he creates a rare bond with his audience. In an industry that demands constant visibility and output, where artists are often forced to keep up with algorithms and profit-driven motives, Kendrick's reclusiveness has become his creative freedom. TPAB reflects on a larger societal issue: how America commodifies Black culture while historically failing to address systemic inequalities.
These themes aren’t limited to his sophomore album. Kendrick’s criticism of America’s status quo extends beyond To Pimp A Butterfly and into Sunday’s Halftime Show at the Super Bowl. Just a week after sweeping the Grammys with five wins for his diss track aimed at Drake—who is now embroiled in litigation—Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl performance became the subject of intense speculation. Would he perform “Not Like Us,” the single known for its pointed jabs at Drake? Would certain lines be censored? Anticipation surrounded these details, but “Not Like Us” wasn’t just a diss track—it also became a bold anthem that unapologetically championed and uplifted the significance of Black American culture. At a time when the highest-selling artist in hip-hop is a Canadian who has frequently faced accusations of co-opting American culture for personal gain, Kendrick used his platform to emphasize Black cultural ownership.
The message was lost on some, though. Certain right-wing commentators took it at face value, reveling in the formation of the American flag during “HUMBLE” as a form of patriotism, rather than recognizing how it symbolized the grave division in society. Others within that demographic were simply up in arms because they thought Trump’s executive order to end DEI efforts would automatically “Make America White Again.” But what they missed was Kendrick’s subtle yet pointed critique of how marginalized groups are expected to lose their identity to conform to societal norms—the “white gaze.” The performance itself reflected this tension through Uncle Sam’s (portrayed by Samuel L. Jackson) narration, which directly commented on America’s historical and present treatment of Black bodies. It questioned whether Kendrick knew how to play the “great American game,” and noted that “Luther” and “All The Stars” with SZA were “what America wants—nice and calm,” while “squabble up” was deemed too loud, reckless, and ghetto. The segue between the excellent doo-wop rendition of “Man at the Garden” and “Peekaboo” contained the most chilling line of all: “Scorekeeper, deduct one life,” a brief line that emphasized the theme of “the great American game”—not the one where players slap each other on the ass after a touchdown, but the one that reflects the video game and Squid Game motif.
Kendrick’s performance may have been underwhelming for a Super Bowl stage, at least to the masses, but the underlying political message reached those it needed to. Some argued that it wasn’t political enough, largely because of the omission of songs like “Alright,” which had become an anthem of resistance during the Black Lives Matter protests. However, Kendrick’s refusal to play the game by its established rules was, in itself, an act of defiance. As the first solo hip-hop artist to perform at the Super Bowl, Kendrick had a choice: play the hits, pander to the audience, and leave a safe impression—or use his moment in the spotlight to challenge the system in the spirit of hip-hop. He chose the latter.
This year’s Halftime Show at the Super Bowl wasn’t about winning the approval of mainstream audiences the way he did with “Not Like Us” throughout 2024. It was intended to rewrite the rules of how culture is represented in the most visible stages of American life. Artists, particularly those in hip-hop, don’t need to conform to the expectations of the industry or society at large.
Whether in To Pimp A Butterfly or his Super Bowl performance, Kendrick Lamar continues to use his art to defy expectations and confront the power structures that shape society. In a time when the term “woke” has been weaponized against those who dare to question the status quo, Kendrick remains one of the few artists who dares to use his platform to provoke, educate, and remain highly engaging. By confronting the intersections of race, capitalism, and fame, he challenges everyone to question not only the game but the very rules it’s built upon.
