Kendrick Lamar has always been a shapeshifter, redefining his artistry with every album. With Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers, we met a Kendrick wrestling with vulnerability—a man reflecting on personal wounds and societal pressures. It was a startlingly honest project, but not the Kendrick we knew from DAMN or To Pimp a Butterfly. That version of Kendrick, the confident and commanding voice of a generation, seemed to have retreated.
But with GNX, the biggest surprise drop since Beyoncé’s self-titled in 2013, Kendrick roars back to life, brimming with the bravado of someone who’s not just back on top but looking down from an even higher peak. At the heart of this resurgence lies Kendrick’s deep-rooted connection to Los Angeles. GNX isn’t just a triumphant return; it’s a love letter to West Coast culture. From the G-funk-inspired beats and subtle nods to the LA streets to the handpicked features that prioritise emerging talent over chart-topping names, Kendrick reaffirms his role as both a cultural leader and a tastemaker. For him, clout has never been the mission—GNX is about creating moments, amplifying voices, and asserting his dominance with effortless ease.
The album’s energy is inseparable from the fire ignited by Kendrick’s ongoing beef with Drake. It’s as if the feud became a necessary spark, reigniting the flame of an artist who thrives on proving himself. That anger burns hot throughout GNX, echoing the rawness of Kanye West’s Yeezus or, ironically, Drake’s Views. Kendrick channels this fury not just at Drake but at other targets like Andrew Schulz, Sh*ts & Gigs Podcast, J.Cole, Snoop Dogg and even Lil Wayne. These moments of hateration aren’t petty—they’re surgical strikes, dismantling his detractors while widening the gap between himself and his peers.
On the opening track, wacced out murals, Kendrick manipulates his voice to embody disgust and disdain, twisting his tone into something almost unrecognisable—creating a new persona and character to add to his ever-growing arsenal, just like his Canadian ‘Crodie’ imitation heard on Euphoria. It’s a masterful technique, one that amplifies the venom behind his words. Yet this isn’t just a project of anger; it’s a declaration. Kendrick’s confidence is palpable, a sharp contrast to the introspective uncertainty of Mr. Morale. Here, he’s in full control, wielding his emotions as tools to craft his narrative.
One of the album’s standout moments is the heart pt. 6. By continuing his storied series and ignoring Drake’s attempt to claim the title during their feud, Kendrick delivers a powerful message: this isn’t a game to him. Tracks like reincarnated go even further, with Kendrick channeling 2Pac’s storytelling brilliance to reclaim a legacy Drake once tried to co-opt during his AI stunt. But where Mr. Morale felt like a self-intervention, GNX is Kendrick’s victory lap, steeped in triumph and unshakable confidence.
While much of GNX is brimming with fiery declarations and grandiose statements, Kendrick doesn’t forget to flex his melodic muscles. Tracks like gloria, the album’s outro, showcase a softened, reflective side of Kendrick. It’s an almost meditative conclusion, a song that feels like an exhale after the storm, grounding the project in humanity.
Then there’s Luther, a distinct collaboration with SZA that samples Luther Vandross, adding yet another classic to their repertoire following Doves in the Wind and All the Stars. The track blends lush, nostalgic production with a deeply personal edge, as Kendrick and SZA trade verses with effortless chemistry. It’s a reminder of Kendrick’s versatility, seamlessly marrying introspection with radio-ready appeal.
A track that may fall under the radar is man at the garden, where Kendrick’s quiet confidence shines through. The refrain, "I deserve it all," is simultaneously boastful and self-affirming. The track feels intimate yet commanding, a moment of clarity in an album filled with dynamic shifts. It’s Kendrick reminding us—and perhaps himself—that his victories are earned, not given.
The album’s structure is equally deliberate, with its arrangement and composition crafted with grandiosity in mind. You can almost see the Super Bowl halftime show as you listen—marching bands stomping in time to tracks like tv off, their horns blaring Kendrick’s defiant refrains. The cohesion of GNX isn’t just musical; it’s theatrical, demanding a stage as large as Kendrick’s ambitions.
By the end of GNX, Kendrick isn’t just back—he’s further ahead than ever. The album widens the chasm between him and other top rappers, cementing his place as a once-in-a-generation artist. Where his peers lean into trends, Kendrick builds monuments. He’s unapologetic in his dominance, using GNX to remind us that he isn’t just part of the conversation—he is the conversation.
Kendrick needed this moment, and perhaps he needed the beef with Drake to catalyse it. But GNX isn’t about settling scores; it’s about reclaiming space, reasserting mastery, and taking his victory lap with the world watching. If Mr. Morale was Kendrick finding his footing again, GNX is him stomping firmly, a giant reminding us all of his stature.