Drake and Kendrick Lamar’s rap feud somehow rhymes petulance with shut up already

But hip-hop is a world unto itself. The insults have a beat of their own.

I will not pretend to grasp the origin story or alchemy for why Drake and Kendrick Lamar are now locked in a tit-for-tat, diss-for-dat quarrel. But one thing seems clear: these two fellows don’t like each other very much. A cold war that dates back a decade has gotten hot vis-à-vis hastily released slander masquerading as music.

The rap battles of my youth were mostly limited to income, chart supremacy, fancy rides or threats to sleep with someone’s girlfriend. Sometimes, a mother would be deemed ugly as sin. Sometimes, a wardrobe was weak ass. But I don’t recall many dark insinuations of pedophilia or domestic abuse, as is now unfolding in real time as Drake and Kendrick trade rhyming barbs and their delirious fans lap up every slur while keeping score.

For what it’s worth, Rolling Stone just declared a winner: “The Results Are In: Kendrick Lamar Won the Great Rap War.”

Great? Or infantile? Idiotic? Totally pointless? Hang on. A Star Breaking News alert just landed in my inbox: “Security guard at Drake’s Bridle Path mansion shot overnight, police say.”

Now, obviously, we don’t know if this has anything to do with the escalating rap battle. And, yes, there are feuds in every musical genre. Brahms despised Liszt. Lynyrd Skynyrd hated Neil Young. Even DNA is no match for bad blood: Liam Gallagher would rather skinny dip with a box jellyfish than share a hotel room with his brother Noel.

Some genres are less prone to conflict.

I can’t recall a philharmonic feud. I am also unaware of a savage dispute between rival barbershop quartets, though such a brouhaha could result in delightfully harmonic diss tracks: “Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream (bom, bom, bom, bom) / Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen (bom, bom, bom, bom) / Give him two lips like roses and clover (bom, bom, bom, bom) / Then tell him he’s a loser and his life is over.”

Basic journalism requires me to listen to the entire Drake vs. Kendrick hate catalogue from recent weeks. Then basic journalism asks me decode the lyrics in “Like That,” “Push Ups,” “Taylor Made Freestyle,” “Euphoria,” “6:16 in L.A.,” “Family Matters,” “Meet the Grahams,” “Not Like Us” and “The Heart Part 6.”

But my ears are like, “The hell with basic journalism.”

Drake is one of the most popular artists on this planet. But I’d rather listen to a baby wailing as he is pushed in a grocery cart with a squeaky wheel. Or a dental drill on a chalkboard. Or Pierre Poilievre belting out “Sussudio” while lathering up in the shower.

Again, we don’t know if Tuesday’s shooting in the Bridle Path was connected to the rap feud. But we do know Lamar fans have wreaked havoc on Google Maps recently by pinpointing Drake’s mansion and renaming it “Kendrick’s House.”

We also know rap wars can get violent. There’s a reason Wikipedia has a page titled, “List of Murdered Hip Hop Musicians,” including Tupac and Biggie.

There were no drive-by shootings in the days of Brahms and Liszt.

This Drake-Kendrick rap battle somehow rhymes petulance with shut up already.

So gentlemen? Grow up already. You are rich and famous. You have global followings. What message are you sending to young fans with this juvenile spat? With great power comes great responsibility. You know what’s not responsible? Monetizing grievance. Character assassination. The world needs role models. The world does not need wildly unsubstantiated allegations about how Drake is a groomer or Kendrick is an abuser.

Drizzy, stop being so dizzy / Lamar, the door to decency is ajar.

This column is turning into a hip-hop song. Random question: if you were a rapper, what stage name would you pick? I’d go with MC Astigmatism or the Brown Reaper. What I wouldn’t do is waste my time in the lap of luxury picking fights that diminish all involved.

I get that rap battles are an animating force in the history of hip-hop. But in 2024, with the world burning in so many ways, this Drake and Kendrick dispute smacks of self-indulgence and a lack of control. It is as obscenely out-of-touch as the Met Gala outfits on parade Monday.

Both men should record new songs about adults acting like spoiled brats.