How to Win Your Next Rap Beef

As of May 14th, 2024, Kendrick and Drake’s feud has fizzled into conspiracies, speculations, and Twitter threads. It seems that Kendrick has “officially” won. Online polls lean Kendrick, streaming numbers lean Kendrick, and, most importantly, my intuitions lean Kendrick. 

Why? Why did Kendrick win? How did he cement his victory? How did hip-hop society—from r/hiphopheads to Twitch streamers to humble Substack bloggers—arrive at this conclusion? Answering these questions will help develop a model of what victory looks like in hip-hop beef and how to achieve it. My working thesis is that winning a rap beef depends slightly more on strategy than actual rapping ability. 

The Historic Importance of the Hip-hop Crown. 

Hip-hop is marked by a constant, sport-like obsession with determining the best MC (e.g., the top rapper, head honcho, best hip-hop artist). Hip-hop media is rife with debates about the best lyricists, albums, and artists. In this vein, rappers consistently refer to an ethereal out-group of fake, unskilled, corny rappers as a punchline or juxtaposition to their skill. This attitude is reflected in the catalogue. Below are five examples:

• Jay Z, 2001. Takeover: “The takeover, the breaks over, nigga. God MC, me, Jay-Hova. Hey lil’ soldier, you ain’t ready for war; R.O.C too strong for y’all.” 

• Nas, 1996. The Message: “Let me let y’all niggas know one thing: there’s one life, one love, so there can only be one king.”

• Drake, 2017. Gyalchester: “I know I said top 5, but I’m top 2, and I’m not 2…”

• Lil Wayne, 2005. Best Rapper Alive: “It is Weezy Fuckin’ Baby, got these rappers in my stomach. Yummy. I’m takin’ it [the throne]. I ain’t asking them for nothin.”

• Kendrick Lamar, 2013. Control: “I’m the king of New York. King of the Coast, one hand, I juggle them both…  I heard the barbershops be in great debates all the time, bout who’s the best MC? Kendrick, Jigga and Nas, Eminem, Andre 3000. The rest of y’all? New niggas, just new niggas, don’t get involved… I’m usually homeboys with the same niggas I’m rhyming with. But this is hip-hop, and them niggas should know what time it is. And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big KRIT, Wale, Pusha T, Meek Mills, A$AP Rocky, Drake, Big Sean, Jay Electron’, Tyler, Mac Miller: I got love for you all but I’m tryna’ murder you niggas. Tryna’ make sure your core fans never heard of you niggas. Till they don’t wanna hear not one more noun or verb from you niggas” 

Hip-hop is a uniquely competitive genre. Specifically, it is the only genre that regularly highlights explicit competitive rivalry. Drake once said: “[I] Gave these niggas the look, the verse, even the hook, that’s why every song sounds like Drake featuring Drake”–referencing how pervasive his style of rap had become. In contrast, even during the atmospheric heights reached by an Adele, or Ed Sheeran, we seldom see their lyrics reflect the same meta-commentary about their dominance within the industry. Likewise, we rarely see Country artists calling each other out for being fake cowboys. In Pop, when we get lucky, we sometimes savour vague references—but never the explicit, name-dropping hit pieces that characterize rap battles. Until Jake Gyllenhaal drops his response to “All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version),” pop simply cannot compare. 

I have two preliminary theories for why rap is so rivalrous. 

1. Rap battles: Firstly, rap and rapping evolved within communities through informal channels; rap is a highly accessible artistic medium, which begets high involvement. Secondly, Rap evolved from DJ turn-tables and subsequent DJ battles. Thus, rap evolved as a competitive medium. Part of the entertainment value of hip-hop was the spectacle of the battle—pitting lyric against lyric, insult against insult, and punchline against punchline. Whoever can best move the crowd is crowned as the best MC. Mainstream rappers like Biggie started precisely this way. 

2. Regional Rivalries: Rapping and hip-hop culture evolved within communities long before the internet or mainstream rap artists. Each community developed a style reflecting its local culture, language, and values. Such regional and cultural tensions are perfect conditions for rivalry and competition. For instance, New York and California rivalries were primarily sparked by East Coast resentment of the West Coast rise. Subsequent rap rivalries may be an attempt by local rappers to earn respect, represent their community, and solidify their position within the industry. 

Drake and Kendrick’s Feud

You may already be familiar with the three main characters of this saga: Drake, Kendrick Lamar, and J. Cole—three of the previous decade’s most prominent hip-hop artists. Drake has broken record after record, topping the charts and engineering hits seemingly at will. Kendrick Lamar has won the Pulitzer Prize, crafted conceptual masterpieces, and shed a novel, personal light on cultural issues in his community. J. Cole has taken a middle road, continued to flex his lyrical skill, and littered hip-hop with famously ferocious features. Fittingly, when J. Cole was featured on Drakes’s “First Person Shooter,” he spat: 

“Love when they argue the hardest MC. Is it K-dot? Is it Aubrey [Drake]? Or Me? We the Big Three, like we started the league—But right now, I feel like Muhammad Ali.”

This line triggered the firestorm that inspired this essay. However, before we look any further, let’s look back to the early 2010s. 

In 2012, Drake and Kendrick rapped together on “Poetic Justice.” In 2013, Kendrick shocked the hip-hop industry with his verse on “Control.” Kendrick’s competitive spirit was applauded; however, the audacity of this still up-and-coming Compton artist to claim the title of “The King of New York” and address his colleagues by name was too much to swallow for some. Rappers like Joe Budden wrote diss tracks addressed to Kendrick. Drake responded: “I know good and well that Kendrick’s not murdering me, at all, in any platform.”

From 2013 until 2024, Drake and Kendrick traded indirect jabs—however, without direct confirmation, this period of the feud is speculative. For example, In 2015, Kendrick rapped on “King Kunta.” 

“I can dig rapping, but a rapper with a ghostwriter? What the fuck happened?”

This was widely believed to be addressed at Drake, but the song maintains enough plausible deniability to avoid meriting a direct response. Both Drake and Kendrick exchanged these volleys for years. Like a long-awaited kiss, Kendrick broke the tension by responding to J. Cole’s “Big Three” claim and addressing Drake directly on the song “Like That” with Future and Metro Boomin. 

“Motherfuck the big three. Nigga, it’s just big me.”

You are likely familiar with what comes next, but for those requiring a refresher:

1. Drake responds with “Push Ups,” a lyrical track with some rebuttal to “Like That” and insults to Kendrick and other associated rappers. For example, “How the fuck you big stepping with a size seven men’s on?” and “What’s a prince to a king he a son,” which flips Kendricks’s bar “Prince outlived Mike Jack.”

2. Drake follows up with “Taylor Made Freestyle,” insulting Kendrick again using Tupac and Snoop Dogg’s AI voices.

3. Kendrick drops “Euphoria,” a lyrical track with multiple beat switches, poking fun at Drake, questioning the character he portrays, and bringing up his previous humiliations. 

4. Kendrick follows up with “6:16 in LA,” insinuating that Drake’s circle of friends and colleagues are untrustworthy—“Fake bully, I hate bullies, You must be a terrible person, everyone inside your team is whispering that you deserve it.”

This concludes the lyrical competition. The feud devolves into direct personal attacks. 

5. Drake responds with “Family Matters,” alleging that a) Kendrick has cheated on his wife (with a white woman!), b) one of Kendrick’s children is the son of his manager, Dave Free, and c) that Kendrick has domestically abused his fiancé.

6. Kendrick responds within the hour on “Meet the Grahams.” Kendrick alleges that a) Drake is hiding and covering for sex traffickers at OVO (Drake’s brand and label), b) Drake is a pedophile, and c) Drake is a deadbeat father, hiding an 11-year-old child from the world

7. Kendrick follows up within the day with “Not Like Us,” reiterating his previous allegations with a much catchier, bumpy track that ridicules Drake once more.

8. Drake responds with “The Heart part 6,” crowing that he was feeding Kendrick false information, attempting to refute some of the previous disses, and reiterating his previous allegations.

This is the record as of May 14th, 2024. No rapper has published any proof of their allegations. 

Has Rap beef become more personal? 

The largest recent rap beef—including 2018’s Drake versus Pusha T and 2024’s Drake versus Kendrick—may have impressed that winning a rap battle has increasingly depended on one’s ability to expose deep skeletons in one’s opponent’s closet. This sentiment is echoed here and here. I contend that this is recency bias.  

A rap battle is a battle of public opinion. The winner in a beef is determined by the crowd. To sway public opinion, you can highlight your good qualities by out-rapping your opponent, or you can highlight your opponent’s worst qualities by insulting them. Turning public opinion against your opponent and in your favour is difficult to do through pure lyrical abilities. It is simply easier to humiliate your opponent, to belittle their character, and to lift yourself up by result. The incentive to win facilitates a race to the bottom, where rappers are ready and willing to say disgusting things about their opponents. I’d posit that any increase in how personal rap feuds have become is predominately a function of the internet age making exposing the opps easier than ever, rather than some moral decline, or evolution of fan preferences.

An empirical analysis corroborates this argument. The Ringer, a sports and pop culture website, recently posted a list of the top 100 rap disses. This list is subjective, but it’s the first hit for “top rap diss tracks” and a reasonable attempt to avoid selection bias. Looking through the top 16 tracks, we see some classics such as “Hit Em Up,” “Real Muthaphuckin G’s,” and “Ether.” Most of these tracks are not purely lyrical and include some allegations. I organized these songs into categories and assigned corresponding point values. 1 point to a diss that is predominately lyrical based. 2 points to a diss that includes some general accusations of some deviant behaviour (homosexuality, snitching, etc.). and 3 points to a diss that focuses on an allegation. Of course, these are highly subjective categorizations. Nonetheless, I’ve included a list of the songs and graphed them to discuss the trend scientifically. 

Figure 1. A list of the top 15 hip-hop disses per “The Ringer.”

1. 2024: Not Like us. Kendrick disses Drake with allegations of pedophilia and sex trafficking. 3 points

2. 2024: Like That. Kendrick disses Drake, primarily lyrical—1 point

3. 2018: The Story of Adidon. Pusha T disses Drake, alleging that Drake is a deadbeat father and revealing he has a child. 3 points

4. 2012: Truth. Gucci Mane disses Young Jeezy. Gucci Mane had killed one of Jeezy’s friends in (claimed) self-defence and uses this track to make fun of Jeezy for it. 2 points

5. 2005: Checkmate. Jadakiss disses 50 Cent, alleging that he is a snitch. 2 points

6. 2002: Nail in the Coffin/The Sauce. Eminem disses Benzino, brutally mocks him, and alleges that Benzino is trying to exploit his kids for money (one of those kids is Coi Leray, who, in 2022, disowned her father and dissed him as well). 2 points

7. 2001: Ether. Nas disses Jay Z, alleges that he is exploiting Biggie’s legacy and alleges that Jay Z used to come to Nas’ for rapping advice, and shelter when he had nowhere else to stay. In sum, Nas “lil-bro’ed” Jay-Z . 2 points

8. 2001: Takeover. Jay Z disses Nas and other New York Rappers. 1 point

9. 1999: How to Rob. 50 Cent disses myriad rappers. 1 point

10. 1998: Second Round K.O. Canibus Disses LL Cool J. 1 point

11. 1996: Drop a Gem on Em. Mobb Deep disses Tupac and alleges he was raped in prison. 2 points

12. 1996: Hit Em Up. Tupac disses Biggie and claims to have had an affair with Biggie’s wife. 3 points

13. 1993: Real Muthaphuckin G’s. Eazy-E disses Dr. Dre, questioning how he portrays his “gangster” character. 2 points

14. 1992: Fuck wit Dre Day (And everybody’s celebratin’). Dr Dre and Snoop Dogg Diss Eazy-E, with allegations of homosexuality. 2 points

15. 1991: No Vaseline. Ice Cube disses NWA, alleging that NWA is being taken advantage of by their manager, that Eazy-E and MC Ren are gay, and that NWA has become whitewashed. 2 points

16. 1987: The Bridge is Over. Hilariously tame. 1 point

Figure 2. 

The trend and R-squared values are weak. This data suggests that rap beefs have not become significantly more personal over time. Instead, they have always been personal. Winning a rap beef requires swaying public opinion; this incentive has not changed. 

What is the mechanism behind the swaying of public opinion?

What you believe, care, or internalize about a narrative heavily depends on prior tastes. For example, a Toronto native (“Mandem”) is likely more sympathetic to Drake’s message than Kendricks’. Drake represents Mandem’s city, and Mandem likely grew up listening to Drake. Even if Mandem didn’t, his friends likely did. So, Mandem is susceptible to over-crediting a Drake diss and discounting any Kendrick response. This is confirmation bias in play, a bias that makes persuading someone to defect to their out-group frustratingly difficult. This phenomenon is illustrated by the reactions to the latest diss (The Heart part 6) in the Drake-Kendrick feud by their respective subreddits:

The top comment on r/Drizzy:

The top comment on r/KendrickLamar:

Drake fans focus on what they perceive as winning material, whereas Kendrick fans ridicule what they perceive as the weakest material. The perspective of each camp is relatively predetermined and stagnant. So, what about the casual hip-hop fans? Securing the independent vote is vital to winning your next beef. Securing the independents involves group identity formation and network effects. 

In “From Cooperation to Conflict: The Role of Collective Narratives in Shaping Group Behaviour,” Bliuc and Chidley write about how collective narratives become a basis for group formation, how easy it is to opt into different “psychological groups” and how narratives can be used as a divisive tool (2022). Using the Drake-Kendrick feud as a case study is helpful here—the hip-hop community is being divided, and previously undecided members are choosing a community to join. The barriers to entry, commitments, and expectations are low. Attracting these independents requires creating a more palatable group. This process transcends lyrics, beats, and melodies; instead, this is about fostering an attractive community identity. Some elements of a strong shared identity could be underdog status or a righteous cause. Drake and Kendrick have both attempted this strategy in various ways.

1. In “Family Matters,” Drake begins his song by framing it as a defence of his son:

   1. “You mentioned my seed; now deal with his dad. I gotta go bad, I gotta go bad.”

2. In “Push Ups,” Drake tries to claim underdog status with prominent lines such as:

   1. “What the fuck is this a 20 v 1…”

3. In “Meet the Grahams,” Kendrick pits himself not just against Drake but against the entire music industry in his larger mission to expose perversion:

   1. “And we gotta raise our daughters knowin’ there’s predators like him lurkin’. Fuck a rap battle. He should die so all of these women can live with a purpose. I been in this industry twelve years, I’m a tell y’all one lil’ secret. It’s some weird shit goin’ on, and some of these artists be here to police it.”

4. Even Kendrick’s “Not Like Us” plays more as a community anthem than a diss. “They” not like us. Being them is not cool; join us instead.  

Furthermore, network effects play their part in determining a winner. Two massive groups of relatively equal size can generally persist with stable dynamics. But in a rap beef, group membership is unstable—the decisions of who to identify with are being made within weeks. Humans are predisposed to the bandwagon effect—this cognitive bias likely stems from evolution. People join others because conformity is a safe option. Conformity in rap beef means agreeing on the winning side, holding the normative value in conversations, and, ultimately, ending up on the right side of history. Thus, the appearance of victory is as important as anything else. 

When Drake dropped Family Matters, Kendrick dropped two songs in response. The first response came within the hour and prevented the community discussion from being monopolized by domestic abuse allegations. The second response came within the day and was streamed, enjoyed, and analyzed. Kendrick’s strategy shifted the narrative in real-time, and this shift was amplified by the podcast hosts, streamers, and YouTubers who reacted to and interpreted the beef for their audiences. Kendrick’s strategy changed what hip-hop fans talked about and how. This move maintained a positive group identity and a lead for long enough that the winner was already decided by the time Drake responded.

How to win your next beef?

Though I believe Kendrick won, I am less confident about how this feud will be perceived in the far future. Drake is a pop star who was already generally disliked. The rumours of his grooming have been public and floating around for years. To be sure, Kendrick has shined a light on those allegations, framed them in a more damning way, and played them to an infectious beat and a catchy hook. However, the chances that this feud severely harms Drakes’ future in the Hip-Hop industry are low. Conversely, Kendrick is an iconic, Pulitzer Prize-winning, messianic figure in hip-hop. Simply put, Kendrick’s reputation has a further fall than Drake’s. 

Ultimately, winning your next rap beef is as dependent on your musical abilities as it is on your strategic abilities. Slander and humiliate your opponent, build an appealing community, and slander and humiliate the out-group. Build your lead, secure the narrative, and the public’s opinion will be on your side. Ad hominem is compelling not because people don’t realize that it is fallacious, but because it casts a dark shadow over everything your opponent says. 

 Rap beef provides exciting insights into group psychology, narratives, and strategy. Has rap beef gone too far? Are these feuds good for the genre? What are the implications of all of this on the political and economic state of the world? We can explore these questions and more in future posts. 

Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed it! In the comments below, let me know what you think about the content and/or the writing. Your feedback is greatly appreciated.