Kendrick Lamar’s Grand National Experiment

In his surprise feature on Future and Metro Boomin’s 2024 hit “Like That,” Kendrick Lamar rapped, “[EXPLETIVE] the big three, [EXPLETIVE] it’s just big me.” It was an unashamed assertion of artistic excellence, that Lamar’s music—universally lauded for its powerful storytelling and politically charged lyrics—completely blew the rest of the music industry out of the water in terms of quality. “Like That” also kicked off a historic rap beef with Drake that centered around this theme, one which Lamar’s surprise drop GNX (2024) encapsulates. GNX explores Lamar in the immediate aftermath of Drake’s downfall; he is high on the fruits of his artistic greatness, but defeating Drake was just the beginning. In GNX, he hammers home his status as the top dog of the music industry. His flows are effortless and punchy, brimming with braggadocio and unfiltered rage. Beyond his confrontational bars, however, Lamar reveals the genuine passion and purpose he finds in his art, vindicating the self-proclaimed GOAT status that he revels in.

At its core, GNX is an homage to West Coast hip-hop; all of its features are L.A. rap unknowns (plus SZA and Roddy Ricch), and the album’s production is noticeably similar to hyphy instrumentals of Lamar’s infamous Drake diss “Not Like Us” (2024). “TV Off,” for instance, contains production by Mustard (the producer of “Not Like Us”), utilizing smacking synths blatantly derivative of the diss track. Though he’s retreading old ground, Lamar’s stylistic choices tied to his home region reinforce the fact that GNX is still a deeply personal project, even though it doesn’t attempt to replicate the deep introspection found in Lamar’s past works. GNX is loud, poppy, and abrasive; it communicates the euphoria and residual anger Lamar feels after the beef’s conclusion, emotions that are raw and unadulterated despite seeming bombastic—all while celebrating his own artistic roots and inspirations.

The opener, “Wacced Out Murals,” sets the project’s tone. After guest vocals from Mexican singer Deyra Barrera, Lamar, with cold fury, utters, “yesterday, somebody whacked out my mural,” referring to the defacement of his mural in Compton (of course, by Drake fans). Backed by fast-paced hi-hats, tight string sections, harsh bass, and the intermittent interjection of sirens, Lamar spends the rest of the track addressing and shutting down the disrespect he has faced, from Lil Wayne’s objections to Lamar’s upcoming Super Bowl performance (“Used to bump Tha Carter III, I held my rollie chain proud / Irony, I think my hard work let Lil Wayne down”) to Snoop Dogg’s seeming endorsement of Drake’s AI-generated diss track “Taylor Made Freestyle” (“Snoop posted “Taylor Made,” I prayed it was the edibles”). He’s past the self-deprecation-induced humility from Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers (2022); in “Wacced Out Murals,” he’s self-assured, secure and has no qualms about attacking his enemies. In “Man at the Garden,” Lamar reiterates that brazen self-confidence. He raps about his virtuosity with a subdued, gravelly voice to justify his wealth, success, and influence, assertively repeating the phrase “I deserve it all.” Lines like “For еvery good [EXPLETIVE] that passed away / Sent two-point-fivе million on an average day” present Lamar as charitable and grounded despite his wealth; “Writin’ words, tryna elevate these children” reinforces the benevolent, uplifting nature of his topical lyrics. At the end of the track, Lamar’s vocals begin to crescendo before he forcefully raps, “Tell me why you deserve the greatest of all time, [EXPLETIVE].” Lamar’s words are cocky, but they come after some major career highs—including the release of Mr. Morale and Drake’s defeat—which solidify his situational ethos. As a result, Lamar’s claims don’t feel presumptuous; he’s just acknowledging his own accomplishments. 

Lamar spends the rest of the album clarifying these self-aggrandizing assertions. In “Reincarnated,” he raps over a sample from 2Pac’s “Made [EXPLETIVE]s,” speaking from the perspective of two Black musicians from the 1940s: an R&B guitarist (heavily implied to be John Lee Hooker) and a singer from the Chitlin Circuit. Lamar likens them to his past lives, but he doesn’t flatter them. He emphasizes the unsavory states they were in when they died: commercial greed (“Died with my money, gluttony was too attractive, reincarnated”) and heroin addiction (“I died with syringes pinched in me, reincarnated”), respectively. Then, Lamar shifts focus to his “present life” self. He engages in an extensive dialogue with God (who’s played by Lamar’s distorted voice), demanding divine validation for the bold contentions he’s made throughout the album. Lamar’s words are similar in subject matter to “Man at the Garden” but contrasting in tone; he’s still rapping about his moral goodness, but his voice is emotional and inquisitive—he sounds unsure of himself. God challenges Lamar’s claims; when Lamar raps, “I’m tryna push peace in L.A,” God responds, “but you love war.” Eventually, God asks Lamar, “can you promise that you won’t take your gifts for granted?” Lamar’s “gifts” are his music; God is questioning whether Lamar will end up like his “past lives,” consumed by materialism. Lamar concedes, rapping, “I promise that I’ll use my gifts to bring understanding” and “I vow my life just to live one in harmony now.” Lamar ends the track swearing to continue working as an artist without falling into the pitfalls of his predecessors. “Reincarnated” is Lamar at his most humble in the album, but the track still reinforces GNX’s thesis of his own greatness. Lamar presents his capacity to reflect on the worst aspects of artist culture and elevate himself above it, validating the paragonic guise he introduced in “Man at the Garden.”

After the aggressive West Coast posse cut “GNX,” Lamar adopts a softer, singing voice for “Gloria,” the album’s closer. Lamar muses on a lover, recounting stories between the two of them. He frames her as a source of emotional comfort in his life, narrating, “Remember when granny died? You looked at me and said, / “Baby, dry your eyes, depend on me as your relief / Let your anger be mine.” SZA accompanies him, providing airy, soothing guest vocals. During the track’s interlude, SZA speaks from the perspective of the lover, asserting, “I gave you life, I breathe the [EXPLETIVE] charisma in this [EXPLETIVE] / I bring the blessings, I gave you power.” SZA enunciates her lines with charged anger in what’s otherwise a calm, relaxed ballad; she’s demanding respect from Lamar with harsh tenacity. After a series of bars that further profess his love for the woman, Lamar raps, “Ain’t no [EXPLETIVE] like my [EXPLETIVE] ‘cause that [EXPLETIVE] been my pen.” He reveals the lover “Gloria” is dedicated to as his music, not a real person. “Gloria” encapsulates why Lamar “deserves it all”; beyond his skill, good deeds, and values, Lamar loves his art. It is what has sustained him through hardship and made him who he is. His music is a product of his authentic love of creation, and that fact ensures its artistic value. 

GNX is a masterclass in selfish art. It’s Lamar fully realizing the assertion he made at the end of Mr. Morale: “​I choose me, I’m sorry.” The album is self-indulgent and rambunctious, but that quality is substantiated by its sonic power, lyrical genuineness, and deep respect for Lamar’s influences.