Dissect - S1E19 – i (Part 2) by Kendrick Lamar

Episode Date: January 17, 2017

We continue our serialized analysis of Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly by dissecting "i." Follow Dissect on social media @dissectpodcast. Purchase Dissect merch at dissectpodcast.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Welcome to Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. I'm your host, Cole Kushner. Today, we continue our serialized examination of Tapimp a Butterfly by Kendrick Lamar, with part two of the song, I. If you haven't heard part one, I'd suggest stopping now and listening to that episode first. There, we examined the studio version of I. The album's first single released six months prior to Tapimpa Butterfly's debut. We heard I as a straightforward self-affirming anthem,

for the disenchanted, the depressed, and the incarcerated. The song is built around the refrain, I love myself, which Kendrick unabashedly screams on the song's hook. This outright statement of self-love and affirmation is a long way from I's narrative counterpart, you. A manic, drunken declaration of self-hate, anxiety, and depression heard earlier on the album. I know your secrets, nigger.

Moose wins is frequent, nigger. I know depression is resting on your heart for two reasons, nigga. I know you in a couple black boys. Within the context of the Mnacle, I see it and you're the reason, nigga. And if this bottle could talk, I cry myself to sleep, bitch, everything is you far.

For us breaking to pieces. Within the context of the album's narrative, I is the pinnacle of Kendrick's emotional and spiritual transformation, from naive, self-loathing rapper to affirming self-loving leader. Let's put it this way. The overall theme of, for me personally,

for this album, is really leadership. How can I use it? For better or for worse, money and what my celebrity, how can I use it? How can I pimp it? Can I pimp it negative negatively or can I pimp it in a positive way? Positive for me is showing what I go through, showing what I've been with you and coming all the way back to I and saying I still love myself at the end of the day. And it was vital that I had that on there. And while the studio single version of I could have easily acted as the album's narrative climax, Kedrick instead chose to use a quote unquote

live performance of the song on Tipinpa Butterfly. For those of us familiar with the studio single, hearing the live version on the album was a somewhat jarring experience. Of course, Kendrick knew this would happen. His using a live version is strategic, a self-referential appropriation, the reasons for which will become clear by the end of today's episode. The album version of I begins at the tail end of the previous track, You Ain't Got a Lie, Mama Said. The song fades and we slowly begin to hear murmurings of a crowd. Soon, a hype man is heard, and we get the impression that we're now in a day.

attendance at a live show. The hype man quite literally sets the stage. After a series of mic checks, he says, quote, we're bringing up nobody, nobody, nobody but the number one rapper in the world. He says nobody three times. Of course, we know by now that it's unlikely Kendrick would choose this arbitrarily. As we've discussed numerous times throughout the season, central to the album has been the theme of contrasting duality.

Here, Kendrick asserts humility with confidence, as the emphasized nobody is contrasted with the number one rapper in the world. For me, it sees small details that display Kendrick's mastery of form, and a reason to Pimp a butterfly demands and stands up to intense scrutiny. The hypeman continues, he done traveled all over the world. He came back just to give you some game. All the little boys and girls come up here, this is for you. Of course, this refers to Kendrick's pivotal trip to South Africa. where Kendrick was inspired by his historical roots and felt compelled to return to his hometown of Compton to enlighten his homies or, quote, give them some game. He also specifically draws attention to the youth in the crowd, of course symbolic of the future, and says, this is for you.

Kendrick takes the stage and begins the introductory verse of I, followed by the song's hook. Kendrick around me so many motherfuckers want to down me but in a mego never drown me in front of a dirty double mirror they tell me and I love my self when you're looking at me when you're looking at me in the back of the head and up on me

I love my self luminated by the hand the guy boy don't seem shy I like it want to say it's a war I say Kendrick's vocal intonation is much more energetic and aggressive when compared to the restrained childlike performance of the studio single while lyrically the two versions are pretty much

the same. There are some changes made to the songs hooked between the refrain I love myself. On the studio single, Kendrick says, The World is a ghetto with big guns and picket signs, but it can do what it want, whenever it want, I don't mind. He says, you got to get up, life is more than suicide. One day at a time, sun gone shine. On the live performance, Kendrick says, when you look at me, what do you see? I put a bullet in the back of the head, back of the bully. illuminated by the hand of God, boy don't seem shy, one day at a time, try and go shine. As we listen, pay close attention to the line back of the back of the head of the bully,

and ask yourself if you hear bully or police. So, what do you hear when Kendrick says, back of the head? Bully or police? Let's listen one more time. I've listened to this numerous times, and I personally think he says bully, but for the longest time believed he said police. Certainly, Bully would more obviously fit the song's central theme of defeating negative energy with positivity and self-love.

Of course, police could work as well, though the line would come across pretty explicit in a song, rooted in so much positivity. And it's also completely plausible to think Kendrick purposely pronounced the words so it could be heard either way, as in places like Compton, some of the biggest neighborhood bullies are police officers. I continues with no real lyrical differences of note, aside from a few dropped words and adlips. We'll go ahead and listen to this large chunk of the song until a fight breaks out in the crowd

and Kendrick stops the performance. Black on a corner with a line full of fiend and a bottle full of lean and I mightn't want to scream These days of frustration keep Come to the front Yeah, I duckies, cofaces, post-duffee, fight for faces Dreams are reality's peace Blow steam in the face of the beast Sky can far down, weird can cry down, look at me, motherfucker, I smile

I love my dad And when you're looking at me, Tell me, what do you see? I love myself I put a bullet in the back of the back of the head that the Pumbolemonn, Illuminator, all you're crazy your head and keep moving.

Turn the mic up. Huh. To catch your police, I wear my heart. On my sleeve, let the runway start. You know the man's a bull dealer company. What do you want for me? And my skies, everybody lacked confident, everybody lack confident. How many time my potential was an anonymity, how many times the city making me promises.

So I promise this, nigga. I like myself. Uh, I want you looking at me. Tell me what you can see. I like myself. I put a bullet in the back in the back in the head and the police. I like myself. Uniminated by the hand of God.

Boy, do some shy. Lama. I went to war last night with a heart of medic. Don't nobody call a medic. I'm a do it till I get it right. I've been dealing with the pressure ever since an adolescent. I can never hear the blessing. I can never see the message.

I can never get a leave from a negative and letting in my night let it lead. After an argument in the crowd escalates, Kendrick stops his performance midway through the song's third verse. Interestingly, the last words he performs before, fading off are lay my body. The full line on the studio version of I is, lay my body in the street, which of course evokes an image of a dead body.

It's quite the subliminal message, as the fight in the crowd is itself a metaphor for the conflicts within the black community, particularly gang rivalries that can quite literally leave dead bodies in the street. Kendrick works to regain control the crowd as the song, now skit, continues. Don't know. Niggas ain't trying to play Fik Tutu. How many niggins we have lost?

How many, yeah, yeah, how many we lost? No, for real, answer the question. How many niggas we don't lost, bro? This year alone. Exactly. So we ain't got time to waste time, my niggins. Niggas got to make time, bro. The judge make time. You know that. The judge make time, right? The judge make time so it ain't shit. It shouldn't be shit for us to come out here and appreciate the little bit of life we got left, though. On the dead homie, Charlie P., you know that, bro. You know that. It's Mando.

Right, it's Mando. And I say this because I love the niggas, man. I love all my niggas, bro. Enough sad. Enough sad that we're going to get back to the show and move on because that shit, petty, my nigger. Mike check, mic check, mic check, mic check, mic check. We're going to do some a cappella shit

before we get back to all. All my niggas, listen to this. I promise Dave I never used the phrase fuck nigger He said think of my time We can save that shit for the streets We can save that shit This is for the kids Here Kendrick stresses the importance of communal gatherings

centered around music And he's upset that the purity of the event Has been tainted by a fight Kendrick then says 2015 and we're tired of playing the victim dog Here Kendrick is alluding to the idea of black victimology Some within the black community feel like, quote unquote, playing the victim, that is, dwelling on past injustices and racism against the black community, only work to paralyze the progress of black people.

Opponents of this thinking believe that skimming over the past and present injustices will only allow them to thrive in the future. I believe Kendrick's meaning behind the line tired of playing the victim is clarified by what he says in the subsequent lines. He says, Too-2, how many N-words we done lost? Yan Yan, how many we done lost? Later, Kendrick says, this year alone, exactly, so we ain't got time to waste time. Here, Kendrick is drawing the crowd's attention to the deaths of young black men due to gang violence. He says, we ain't got time to waste time, directly addressing the fight in the crowd as a petty waste of time. The fight in the crowd is, of course, symbolic of the gang violence in the streets of Compton, and all the inner cities like Compton. It seems that Kendrick feels like black on black violence.

regardless of his possible origins is a tragic waste of energy. Energy that could be utilized unifying the black community so they could better combat the larger issues plaguing their community. This is backed up with Kendrick's next line, The judge make time. You know that. The judge make time. The judge is symbolic of the U.S. justice system, a system that is controlled by majority white men. Currently, 80% of all criminal state judges are white,

while 68% of defendants are black or Latino. The judge literally makes time, or prison sentences, thus controlling the fate of millions of black Americans. Kendrick then says, The judge make time so it ain't shit, and shouldn't be shit for us to come out here and appreciate the little bit of life we got left. Kendrick cannot see the point of tarnishing

what could be a positive celebration, unification, and therapeutic release through music with a petty scrap. Kendrick then attempts to redirect the crowd's attention back to the performance, saying he loves them all and that he's going to perform some acapella before getting back into the music. But before we move on to the acapella piece, I want to point out yet another callback to Kendrick's previous album Good Kid Mad City. When asking how many people they've lost, he specifically addresses two men, Tutu and Yan Yan. Niggas ain't trying to play Vic Tutu, how many niggas we have lost?

Yan Yan, how many we lost? No, for real, answer the question. How many niggas we don't lost, bro? This year alone. We heard the name Yan-N-yan appearing on the song Mad City from the narrative of Good Kid Mad City. 2-2 is a name mentioned on Kendrick Lamar's interlude from Absoll's album These Days. As we listen to the excerpt, pay attention to the minivan reference. Of course,

of my hands ain't nothing compared to hopping out of a minivan With a mini 2-2 3 with the homie 2-2 and 2-4-Wat cheese I don't nobody got time for that. Of course, the minivan was a vehicle featured throughout Good Kid Mad City. And here, Kendrick talks specifically about the incident of hopping out of a minivan to shoot retaliation shots at a rival gang, something he spoke on or alluded to in several tracks. On Eye, Kendrick speaks directly to Yan and Tutu.

Although we can't know if the two are still involved in gang politics, in Compton, based on the callbacks in Kendrick's work, we can assume they have been in the past. He has a message for them and all the black community in Compton. To get an overall picture of the dramatic effect of the acapella piece Kendrick performs, we're going to first listen to it in full. As we listen, notice how Kendrick's words and messaging penetrate the noisy crowd and how they eventually fall silent. I promised Dave I never used the phrase fuck, nigger. He said, think about what you're saying. Fuck niggas.

No better than Samuel on the Django. No better than a white man with slave boats. Sound like I needed some soul searching. Mike Pops gave me some game in real person. We traced my steps on what they never taught me. Did my homework fast before government caught me. So I'm going to dedicate this one verse to Oprah on how the infamous sensitive in-word controllers.

So many artists gave her an explanation to hold us. Well, this is my explanation straight from Ethiopia. N-E-G-U-S. Definition, royalty, king royalty. Wait, listen. N-E-G-U-S. Description, Black Emperor, King ruler. Now let me finish.

The history books overlook the word and hide it. America tried to make it to a house divided. The homies don't recognize we've been using it wrong, so I'm going to break it down and put my game in a song. N-E-G-U-S. Say it with me, or say no more. Black Stars can come and get me. Take it from Oprah Winfrey.

Tell her she right on time. Kendrick Lamar by far, realist Nika's alive. This is the pivotal moment of the album, the dramatic apex of Tipa Butterfly. Kendrick's words put an end to a scuffle in the crowd, a metaphor for black-on-black gang violence in inner cities like Compton. Kendrick is putting on display the power of music, positive energy, honesty, self-acceptance, unity, and genuine pride. With this in mind, let's break down this a cappella performance piece by piece, beginning with the opening. lines. I promise Dave, I never used the phrase, fuck, nigger. He said, think about what you're saying. Fuck niggers. No better than Samuel on the Django. No better than a white man with slave boats.

Sound like I needed some soul searching. My pop's gave me some game in real person. We traced my steps on what they never taught me. Did my homework fast before government caught me. Kendrick begins telling us that, quote, I promised Dave, I never used to. the phrase fuck N-word. He said, think about what you saying, fuck N-words. Here, Kendrick introduces the subject of his a cappella piece, the contemporary function of the N-word as used by African-Americans. A fuck-n-word or fuck-boy is slang for a poser, someone who fronts like something they're not. Kendrick's friend Dave seems to take offense to the phrase, which is derogatory when interpreted literally. It's not clear who Dave is, but there are two highly likely candidates. One is

Dave Free, president of TDE, the label Kendrick is signed to. The other is Dave, Kendrick's friend who has shot in the narrative of Good Kid Mad City. Given the callbacks to Good Kid throughout the album, as well as calling out Tutu and Yan Yan just seconds before on I, we might assume Kendrick is referring to his deceased friend, Dave. Kendrick continues, no better than Samuel L. onto Django. Here he's referring to Samuel L. Jackson's character in Quentin Tarantino's film, Django Unchained. Jackson plays a house slave who is very close to his master, and despite being black, acts like a slave owner and sees other black people as beneath him. Kendrick then says,

no better than a white man with slave boats. Jackson's Django character and white slave traitors both have a fuck N-word mentality. The phrase seems unsettling to Kendrick and inspires him to rethink his position on the N-word, as the next line is, sound like I needed some soul-searching. Kendrick continues, my pops gave me some game in real person. The use of the phrase real person is clever, as it alludes to yet another callback to Good Kid Mad City. If you'll remember on the album's conclusive song, Real, Kendrick's father left him a voicemail that defined his thoughts on what a real N-word was.

Gang, I ain't tripping up from Domino's no more. Just calling it. Sorry to hear what happened to your home was. But don't learn the hard way like I did home. Any nigger can kill him, man. That don't make you a real, niggins. Realness responsibility. Realness taking care of your motherfucking family.

Realist God, nigger. Next, Kendrick says, retrace my steps on what they never taught me. Did my homework fast before government caught me. Kendrick will soon redefine the N-word based on research not taught in school and implies this information being purposely omitted from history books to keep the black community oppressed.

Kendrick continues the verse of the dedication to Oprah Winfrey. So I'm going to dedicate this one verse to Oprah on how the infamous, sensitive N-word control us. So many artists gave her an explanation to hold us. Well, this is my explanation straight from Ethiopia. N-E-G-U-S. Kendrick says,

So I'm going to dedicate this one verse to Oprah on how the infamous sensitive N-word control us. So many artists gave her an explanation to hold us. Well, this is my explanation straight from Ethiopia. It's well known that talk show hosts Oprah Winfrey is adamantly against the use of the N-word in any context. In interviews with rappers like Jay-Z, she's brought up hip-hop's prolific use of the N-word. Okay, so, you know, I've been, you know, known for not being a big fan of rap music because of misogynous lyrics and because

of the use of the N-word. And in the magazine, we discussed the use of the N-word and why I feel, Everybody knows that I feel that we shouldn't be, you know, singing the N-word. You obviously feel differently. A little bit. A little bit. A little bit. And tell everybody why. What we discussed is more of words.

People give words power. Yeah. And for our generation, what we did was we took the word and we took the power out of that word. You know, we turned a word that was very ugly and hurtful until a term of endearment. So, I mean, even when someone says, it's still in tension behind what you say. But pretty much took the power out of the word. Because if we just start removing words from the dictionary, just make up another word the next day.

So we don't address the problem. The problem is racism, right? That's really the problem. So we disagree. Yeah. Yeah. Well, of course, there are many intricacies and differing beliefs about the use of the N-word in the black community.

There seems to be two basic positions. opponents do not like its use in any context as they feel the history behind the word cannot be removed. Many who choose to use the N-word assert their reclaiming it, taking the power out of a historically derogatory term, which therefore empowers the user. Elaborating on their differing positions, Jay-Z once said, quote, Oprah, for instance, still can't get past the N-word issue. I can respect her position. To her, it's a matter of acknowledging the deep and painful history of the word.

To me, it's just a word, a word whose power is owned by the user and his or her intention. People give words to power, so banning a word is futile, really. The N-word becomes porch monkey, becomes coon, and so on, if that's what's in a person's heart. The key is to change the person, and we change people through conversation, not through censorship. On I, Kendrick chooses to, quote, put my game in the song, and give his explanation, quote, straight from Ethiopia. Definition, royalty, king royalty, wait, listen, N-E-G-U-S, description, black emperor, king ruler, now let me finish, the history books overlook the word and hide it. America tried to make it to a house divided.

The homies don't recognize we've been using it wrong, so I'm gonna break it down and put my game in a song. N-E-G-U-S, say it with me, or say no more, black stars can come and get me, take it from Oprah Winfrey, tell her she right on time, Kendrick Lamar, by far, Kendrick's piece is based on the Ethiopian word for king, which he pronounces NECUS. From the accounts I've read, the Ethiopian pronunciation is Nogus. Kendrick says the history books overlooked the word and hide it. America tried to make it a house divided.

Kendrick is implying that the origin of the N-word is the Ethiopian word for king, Negas. Slave owners then took the power from this word and made it a pejorative. Kendrick is now attempting to restore the power back. Researching the historical origins of the N-word proves to be a difficult endeavor. There are several possible explanations, and even a university professor who teaches an entire course on the word didn't seem to feel entirely confident in the version he ascribes to.

The most commonly taught history of the N-word is a variation or perhaps mispronunciation of the Spanish word for black, Negro, and the now derogatory French word negre. The word first appeared in English print in 1577, spelled N-I-G-E-R, with the first N-I-G-G-E-R spelling appearing in 1608. The word was used neutrally until the 1770s, when it began to be used as a pejorative, and today remains a perhaps most abrasive word in the English language. The version of history Kendrick is referring to in his a cappella piece seems to be more of an oral history. I couldn't find a quote-unquote scholarly source that tracks a direct-of-historian.

lineage of N-GAS to the N-word, and it's perhaps this lack of academic backing that Kendrick refers to in his line the history books overlook the word and hide it. The ancient Egyptian word Enger spelled N-G-R means God. It's possible that from this word came a number of words that delineate royalty, like the Ethiopian word Nygash meaning king, the Exosa word and Kasi meaning God, and of course Nygus. With Kendrick freshly inspired by his trip to Africa, It's safe to assume he's attempting to reconnect his African roots, an ancestry that was systematically torn from black people living in America. This reconnection with Africa is alluded to in the use of the phrase Black Stars

at the conclusion of the Acapela piece. Let's listen one more time. N-E-G-U-S said with me or say no more black stars can come and get me. Take it from Oprah Winfrey. Tell us she right on time. Kendrick Lamar by far, really sneak us a lie. Kendrick says, N-E-G-U-S, say it with me, or say no more,

Black Stars will come and get me. I believe here Kendrick is referring to the Black Star Line, a shipping line incorporated by black activist Marcus Garvey in 1919. The shipping line was created to ship goods and eventually African Americans to Africa and Garvey's back to Africa movement. The Black Star Line has since been used as a symbol for African Americans attempting to find their way back to Africa,

physically or spiritually. The acapella continues, take it from Oprah Winfrey, tell her she's right on time. Kendrick Lamar, by far, the realist Nicos alive. Kendrick seems to be claiming his allegiance with Oprah and her views on the N-word, insofar as using the word incorrectly. As he said earlier, the homies don't recognize we've been using it wrong. Kendrick asserts the correct ways to reinstate NICAS as the replacement word for the N-word. It aligns with the messaging of Act 4. pride, self-respect, positive energy, honesty, self-acceptance, and unity. Kendrick is also attempting to relate with his heritage in a meaningful way.

Connecting a word he's heard and used his whole life back to Africa with a positive, empowering connotation behind it, is itself indicative of the new relationship he's formed with Africa, his motherland, the place that in many ways gave him the strength to overcome his personal demons. Conclusions. The statement, Kendrick Lamar, by far the realist Nekis alive, is the album's exclamation mark, the moment of triumph, the one-liner in the movie that signals the heroes finally conquered the villain. Kendrick, who's battled the schemes of Uncle Sam, the sins of Lucy, and his own suicidal thoughts,

is now triumphantly self-affirming, crowning himself king and believing it. He has embraced his leadership role, and his words had a tangible effect on the crowd full of Compton natives, symbolically breaking up a fight through the power of music with an empowering positive message. The descriptor realist is surely calculated. It's yet another callback to Good Kid Mad City, and given all the callbacks to the album, who can safely claim to Pimp a Butterfly to be the sequel to Good Kid, as the two are invariably linked. The song Real was Good Kid's narrative conclusion. It signaled Kendrick's transformation from impressionable Compton kid to authentic adult who would find escape from Compton through music.

make me real. On Butterfly, we saw Kendrick's escape from Compton thrust him into a new world he wasn't yet prepared for. On Butterfly, Kendrick has quote-unquote lost his way and searches for answers in this new world of temptation and sin. The conclusion he reaches on eyes essentially the same as real on Good Kid. He finds escape from harsh realities through music, self-acceptance, and authenticity. So Butterfly isn't so much a revelation, but a return,

a rediscovery of the lessons he learned on Good Kid. In this way, Kendrick's story becomes universal. The principles of self-respect, love for others, and realness he preaches can be applied to all our lives, no matter our circumstances. It's truly a powerful thing. Through these principles, Kendrick is able to unite the world around our common struggles of self-doubt, lonesomeness, and feeling lost in the world, while offering some very valid practices that can help overcome these struggles.

It's one of the reasons why Tipa butterfly is so effective. It's at once deeply personal yet extremely universal. Kendrick is somehow able to make relatable his own circumstances. Circumstances very different than the majority of us, but he conveys his story in such a way that we all feel a connection. It's truly a powerful thing. Before we end our analysis of I, I'd like to draw attention to a few more interesting points. First, can we just acknowledge the sheer genius and

ingenuity of this self-referential quote-unquote live version slash extended skit, I've never heard of an artist omitting the lead single of their album, a single that won two Grammy Awards before the album was even released, in favor of a live version, and certainly not this hybrid of a live performance in skit. Kendrick appropriates his own song as narrative tool, and doing so only strengthens its dramatic impact. It's a brave move, one that displays Kendrick's dedication to the album as art form, not just a collection of songs. And you kicked the freestyle. Why did you choose the live version and not the studio version of I?

That was my ideal idea for the album, even when I made the record. I already knew what I wanted to do. I already knew I wanted to, it had to be cohesive with the conceptual part of the album. And I'm just huge like that, man. To be 100% real with you, I see things as scenes and movies, you know, when I write. So that becoming the actual play in the skin on album. It's like second nature to me. I'm already knowing how I want to convey it.

Even if it won two Grammys and things like that, it's still going to go in an hour my way. And I'm glad it got across like that. I knew a lot of people would be like, ah, what is he doing? Why is it like this? but it plays in a part going into mortal man the way I hear it. Right. It was dope because you actually get to see the message in action.

Not only are you saying, I love myself. You then get to touch the crowd and show them why they should love themselves. You get into that freestyle at the end, which is dope because you take the N-W-word and you break it down in the way I've never heard before niggas, N-E-G-U-S, and you connect it back to Ethiopia

in the word that means royalty. Are you going to reclaim the word? Is this a step in kind of reclaiming the N-word and all the negativity that goes with it and put the positive twist? Because we've been trying to do that for centuries. We've been trying to do it for sure, you right? And it still never translate, you know,

a piece into the air. This is a start, and that was the purpose for it. Also, while we already mentioned callbacks to Good Kid Mad City, we can now circle back to the opening measures of Tabipa Butterfly's first act, and the Boris Gardner sample of Every N-Word is a Star. Knowing now the album's narrative arc,

we realize the notion of every N-word is a star is a conclusion Kendrick has been working towards all along. It's the thematic long-form foreshadowing, as Kendrick has come to a similar conclusion, redefining the N-word, and spreading the same self-affirming message. We can also now circle back to the end of the album's second track for free, as well as the third track, King Kuntah.

Of course, you and I was walking, now I run a game, got the whole world talking. King Cunty, everybody want to cut the legs off him, Cuta, black man taking no lust. Oh yeah. Bitch where you are. Of course, having now the full narrative context, the references to King are clearly orchestrated. Uncle San's deprecating prostitute slams Kendrick for not being a king at the end of for free. Kendrick then responds with King Kunta. While the song is about empowerment, it's empowerment based on ego, as Kendrick verbally assaults his fellow rap peers while calling him.

himself king. As you'll remember, the message hidden within King Kunta was rules like a king, yet controlled like a slave, alluding to Kendrick being pimped by Uncle Sam, a metaphor for the exploitation of talent by capitalistic America. On I, through the word Nika's, Kendrick claims himself and all his brothers and sisters kings. There's no ego involved, his reign does not come at the expense of others, and his message is inclusive and unabashedly positive. Lastly with I, we run into yet again another parallel with Tupac Shakur. His 1991 debut album, Tupaclips Now, contains a song called Words of Wisdom, in which he redefines the N-word in a positive way. We are not fighting back brothers. Sisters. Niggas. When I say nigger, it is not the

nigger that we're grown to fear. It is not the nigger that we say is if it has no meaning, but to me, it means never ignorant, getting goals accomplished. Niggas, what are we going to do? Walk blind into a lie or fight, fight, die if we must. Die like niggins. Tupac makes the N-W-Rid an acronym, N-I-G-G-A, which stands for never ignorant getting goals accomplished. It's an affirming gesture not unlike Kendrick's attempt to reclaim the N-word back to its origins of royalty. With thematic parallels throughout this excerpt, as well as the now countless amounts of references throughout Tipa Piper Butterfly,

it would seem Kendrick feels a deep spiritual connection to West Coast rapper Tupac Shakur. This connection will be explored more than ever on the album's next and final track, Mortal Man, the epilogue of Tipa Butterfly, which will thoroughly examine next time on Dysect. Dysect is written and produced by me. Remember, now until the end of the season, Dysect is holding a fundraiser for the first. bicentennial high school music program in Compton, California. This was Kendrick Lamar's high school, and he since donated money to the music program in an effort to keep kids off the streets and in the studio.

I'd love to show our appreciation for Kendrick and all we've learned from Topipa Butterfly by supporting his cause. There's also some great donation perks, including Dissect T-shirts and an awesome Kendrick-inspired hat by Riz Apparel. You can make your donation at dissectpodcast.com. I have a goal of raising $1,000. If every listener of the show donated 13 cents, we can meet our goal. If every listener donated just $3, we can raise over $20,000.

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