Dissect - S1E5 – King Kunta by Kendrick Lamar

Episode Date: September 13, 2016

We continue our serialized analysis of Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly by dissecting "King Kunta" 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 analysis of Kendrick Lamar's to Pimp a Butterfly. In our last episode, we explored the album's second track for free. We saw our protagonist, a young Kendrick Lamar, demanding compensation for his talent from Uncle Sam, the American Dream Incarnate. We also discovered that for all of Kendrick's feelings of empowerment through monetary compensation, he's still falling victim to Uncle Sam's trap.

Though he may feel free, he's still enslaved by history through systemic racism, by his competent upbringing, and his own selfishness. This contrasting duality of empowerment and enslavement reaches its peak in the album's next track, King Kunta. Bitch where you and I was walking. Now I run a game, got the whole world talking. King Kunta, everybody want to cut the legs off him. Kuta, black man taking no lust.

Bitch where you and I was walking. Now I run a game, got the whole world talking. King Kuntta is perhaps the album's most unabashed tribute to the perfading funk influences throughout to Pimp of Butterfly. On its surface, King Kunta is boastful, heroic, prideful, and at times vain. Upon further examination, however, we'll realize there's a deeper, contrasting message to the song's calculated, overtly valiant air. We'll also discover that King Kunta is the pinnacle of the album's first act, which we've named Pimp by Consumption. King Kunta was originally, quote, the most jazziest song in the world, according to the tracks producer Soundwave. It had flutes and some ten guitar tracks that, upon Kendrick's desire to make it nasty, were reduced to a single bass line performed by Thundercat.

This stripped-down version was modeled after the track Get Naked by an artist named Mossberg. Let's listen to a side-by-side comparison. First, Lamar's King Kunta. Now I run the game, got the whole world talking king-go-so. And now, Mossburg's Get Naked. Tell it to your own girls, tell it to your friends, you want to get fake and you can come on there, and I say. A native of Compton, an affiliate of the Campanella Park Blood Gang, Johnny Burns, aka Mossberg,

was an extremely gifted young rapper on the rise in the late 1990s. Discovered by Compton legend DJ Quick, Mossberg worked with artists like Sugar Free and was notably featured on Snoop Dog's Don't Tell from the album No Limit Top Dog. The future certainly seemed promising for Mossberg. Unfortunately, Burns was shot to death on July 4th in the year 2000. He was just 21 years old. Kendrick was a fan of Mossberg growing up. In his interview with NME, he explains the significance behind choosing Get Naked as source material for King Kunta.

The actual beat is one of the creators. But I wouldn't even say the creators, a guy that never got to see his full potential by the name of Mossburg from the city of Compton He has a record called Get Naked and we kind of was paying homage to that record if you go back and do the research on it It was produced by DJ Quick and Marzberg was rapping on him One of my favorite artists coming up so at the same time. I was taking it there, you know Talking about this substance, but I always stand in the root of where I'm from and that was a song of record that we sampled that always lived in my community. For context's sake,

we're going to return to Mossberg's importance after examining King Kunta at length. It's a prime example of Kendrick's intricate coding and concealed messaging so cleverly crafted throughout Tipa Butterfly. Let's dig into King Kunta's opening measures. Kendrick here is addressing the world at large about his place at the top of the Compton food chain.

After the line, sitting in my throne again, we hear in the background an unknown character say, K dot back in the hood. After rising to fame in Wesley's theory and for free, Kendrick is back in Compton, angry, and ready to ask his true friends a question. True friends. One question. You and I was walking. Now I run a game, got the whole world talking.

King Cooter. Everybody want to cut the legs off him. Kuta. Black man taking no lust. Oh yeah. Bitch where you and I was walking. Now I run a game. Got the whole world.

The name King Kuntta references Kuntikinti, a fictional 18th century slave in the novel Roots, the saga of an American family by Alex Haley. The book was adapted into an extremely successful television series, Roots, which Kendrick watched as a child. Kuntikente attempted several times to escape captivity and ultimately had his right foot cut off by slave hunters so he could not escape again. Kendrick plays off Kuntikinte's story, drawing comparisons with his own escape from Compton. Like in For Free, Kendrick draws parallels between slavery and the systemic enslavement of poverty-stricken ghettos.

Kendrick references his pre-fame youth when he asks, Where Were You When I Was Walking? He then boasts that he runs the game, got the whole world talking due to his success as a hip-hop artist. The next lines, everybody want to cut their legs off him, a black man taking no losses, echoes the prideful sentiments of Four Free. Kendrick, now King, is taking no shit. Though many critics or hip-hop peers will take shots or attempt to exploit him, Kendrick is back incompetent to prove he's now powerful, free, and on top of the food chain.

On one hand, King Kunta is a phrase of empowerment that pays homage to a strong black man, Kuntikinti, and by proxy Kendrick Lamar. This interpretation speaks to the pride Kendrick feels in himself and his black community. I've been called many things growing up, you know, in the state of just. just being a black man I've been caught, you know, many things from my ancestors. You know, they've been called many things. But it's taking that negativity and being proud of it and making it to your own, saying I am a king, you know, no matter what you call me.

And along with that, I think it really just shows heart, heart of who I am, you know. Kendrick also speaks at length about King Kunta in his interview with NME. And I played off words in that record, you know, no matter what, no matter what type of axe or sword, you bring it my way, you'll never cut down the legs that's running, you know, by the forces of God. There's a lot of different other meanings in there that you probably have to break down. But overall, just the energy of the track. Just the energy, complete energy.

For me, the key phrase is when Kendrick slightly says, quote, there's a lot of different other meanings in there that you probably have to break down. In interviews, Kendrick often very willingly provides the more positive interpretation of his lyrics. but will allude to another meaning, one he's not willing to give away. In the case of King Kunta, that other meaning is more sinister. King Kunta is an oxymoron, denoting the experience of the wealthy black person in America. Rules like a king, yet is controlled like a slave. Remember, Kuntikinta is missing a leg, a permanent handicap that will forever serve as a reminder of his past.

For all of Kendrick's celebrity and wealth, he's still handicapped as a black man in America. Later in the album, we'll witness how this handicap affects Kendrick as he attempts to maneuver through his new life of success and fame. As we saw with Wesley Snipes and Dave Chappelle and Wesley's theory, money doesn't equate to freedom. Like Pimp and Butterfly of the album's title, like the N-word and Star in the opening of Wesley's series, and like the double meaning of the word free and for free, King Kunta continues the contrasting dualities of empowerment versus enslavement. After the songs hook, Kendrick bridges into verse one with the lines, When You Got the Yams.

Kendricks got the Yams. The Yams is the power daily when I'm walking down the street. Kendrick begins the verse talking about Yams, and will reference it twice more by the tracks to conclusion. In the first verses iteration, Yams alludes to Ralph Ellison's The Invisible Man, a story about an unnamed black man from the South attempting to assimilate into a racially divided, post-Civil War society that ultimately does not choose to see him as a human being. The narrator shares his two decades-long story of ignorance to enlightenment, ultimately realizing truth is not found in ideology or political movements.

Rather, it comes from within, from self-discovery and reflection. If the story will come to realize, it lines extremely close to the journey Kendrick shares on Tipinpa Butterfly. Thematically, both Kendrick and Ellison address black identity, the illusion of power, and the challenges African American-Americans' face adapting into a society created and controlled by white men. An invisible man, the unnamed protagonist is walking down the streets of Harlem when he smells yams being cooked and sold by a street vendor. He indulges in them for the first time since

leaving his hometown in the south. It's an act that symbolizes acknowledgement and acceptance of his roots in black heritage, something he's attempted to bury in his efforts to assimilate into urban society. He eats the yams proudly, famously exclaiming, they're my birthmark, I yam what I am. Yams represent acceptance, self-empowerment, and authenticity. This would seem to align with Kendrick's answer to his own question of, What's the yams in King Kunta? The yams is the power that be, he responds.

You can smell it when I'm walking down the street. Kendrick is claiming himself authentic and powerful. He then contrasts this with what he feels is inauthentic, taking shots at his hip-hop peers for using ghost riders, the ultimate mark of phoniness in the rap world. After a repetition of the tracks hook, Kendrick again exclaims, When You Got the Yams, a line that sets off a half-step modulation, a fancy term for a change in the song's tonal center.

The switch is fitting because so too does the definition and the use of the word YAM. Used first to represent power and authenticity, YAM and the second verse represents something more ominous. The Yams brought it out of Richard Pryor, Kendrick says. alluding to the famed comedian's incident of freeballing cocaine, setting himself on fire and running through the streets of L.A. Here, Yams is used in its slang form, meaning a gram of cocaine or a balloon full of drugs. He follows this lineup with manipulated Bill Clinton with desires, an obvious siding of Clinton's infidelity in the White House. Yam is also slang for vagina. Kendrick has cleverly found

a single word that simultaneously exemplifies the complex nature of success and fame and inherit temptations and vice that come along with it. Again, Kendrick is referencing the duality theme so prevalent throughout the album. For me, the next line is a key plot point in the album's narrative. Let's have another listen. Here, Kendrick is stating that for two years he's been on tour, dreaming of getting off stage for the sole purpose of rubbing his fame and success in the face of his hometown enemies.

It reveals the intention of the Uninlightened Caterpillar that consumes with a self-serving intent. He's furthering the divide between himself and the members of his community, both in Compton and in hip-hop. By the conclusion of To Pippa Butterfly, an enlightened mature Kendrick will once again return home to Compton, with a very different message than the self-serving one shared on King Kunta. After the repetition of another hook, verse 3 begins. I was going to kill a cup of rappers, but they did it to themselves. Everybody is suicidal. They didn't even need my hope.

They should have elementary, I probably go to jail. The first if I shoot at your identity and bounce to the left, stuck a flag in my city. Everybody's screaming Compton, I should probably run from merit when I'm done. To be honest, and I put that on my mama and my baby boo to. 20 million walking out the court built it woo woo. Oh yeah, fuck the judge. I made it past 25 and now I was a little nappy.

Life ain't shit, but a fat bitch where you and I was... The verse starts out by quoting Jay-Z. I was going to kill a couple rappers, but they did it to themselves. And again, Kendrick continues to assault his hip-hop competition for being lame. He then states he stuck a flag in the city of Compton and fantasizes about one day running for mayor. The next line, Fuck the Judge I Made a Past 25 and There I Was, references a few interesting concepts. The judge is featured on the cover of Tipipa Butterfly and will come up a few more times on the album. The judge symbolizes the gatekeeper of modern society, the one who sets the rules and ultimately enforces them.

Of course, we're talking about the majority white government who's ruled America since its conception, and has historically created obstacles rendering prosperity extremely difficult for minorities of color. The line, made it past 25, acknowledges the common sentiment that African Americans living in poverty will either be dead or in jail by age of 25. Kendrick is celebrating his survival living on borrowed time. It should be noted, too, that Tupac died at the age of 25, the significance of which we'll discuss at the album's conclusion. The next sequence of lyrics are either some of the most intricate in Kendrick's career, or purely coincidence, but considering his reputation of hidden messaging and double meaning, it's hard to think

anything in Kendrick's music is left a chance. Let's listen again to the passage in question. First, Kendrick references himself as nappy-headed with the world behind him, followed by the line, Life Ain't Shit but a Fat Bagina. He continues by referencing the chorus of Michael Jackson's smooth criminal, Annie, Are You Okay, Annie Are You Okay? The website, Genius and their contributors picked up on a rather complex connection between these lines. West Coast rapper Ice Cube has a song called Giving Up the Nappy Dugout, which samples smooth criminal by Michael Jackson. The phrase Nappy Dugout is slang for vagina, which ties into Kendrick's line, Life Ain't Shit but a Fat Vagina. The phrase Nappy Dugout originates from the

group Funkadelic in their song Nappy Dugout of 1973. George Clinton was a member of the group Funkadelic and as you'll remember was featured on Topimpa Butterfly's Open opening track Wesley's theory. With three lines, Kendrick draws connections across three decades of music. The 1970s with Funkadelic and George Clinton, the 1980s with Jackson's smooth criminal, and the 1990s with Ice Cube's nappy dugout. Pretty incredible. Kendrick closes out the verse siding his rise from the belly of the beast that is Compton, climbing his way out from a peasant to a prince to his current status as king. The final iteration of the chorus is interrupted by a sudden gunshot.

Bitch where you and I was wanting. By the time you hear the next pop, the folk shall be within you. Now I run the game, got the whole world talking King-Cocci. Everybody want to cut the legs up. Yeah, you're cocked up the leg's off. The gunshot is likely an assassination attempt from one of the enemies he's taunting throughout King Cunta. But remember, Kendrick made a past 25. He's a survivor.

And in true superhero form, redirects a bullet from a threat to a calling card, the ominous voice informs us that the funk shall be within us after the next pop. The outro's repetition of We Want the Funk and the detuned voice responding with, if I give you the funk you go and take it, pays homage to two different musical influences. The first comes from the artist Amman, whose song We Want the Funk is directly quoted, so much so that Amad receives a writing and sample credit on King Kunta. It's interesting to note that Amman, an L.A. native who's hit back in the day as a hip-hop classic, went on to graduate from Harvard and would become a motivational speaker on topics like education and music.

This story, and thereby the usage of his song, could be foreshadowing for Kendrick's own journey of enlightenment. It's also a sharp contrast against the tragic story of Mossberg noted earlier. Again, the contrasting duality theme shows up here. Both natives of L.A., Ahmad and Mossberg, are two sides of the same coin. The outro also nods to give up the funk by Parliament. a funk group Kendrick was listening to heavily on his tour bus prior to working on Tipinpa Butterfly. As we listen, note the deep voice that Kendrick emulates in King Kunta. For songs so outwardly opposed to ghostwriting and imitation,

Kendrick certainly draws heavily on influences, from the production heavily rooted and nearly identical to Mosberg's Get Naked, deciding Jay-Z, Ice Cube, Michael Jackson, Ahmad, and Parliament. Of course, these influences are carefully calculated layers to the song's intricate messaging. Kendrick has brilliantly crafted a boastful, radio-friendly single that on its own stands as a powerful message of self-confidence and blackness. Yet despite his external bravado, when viewed in the context of the album's narrative, King Kunta ultimately sees Kendrick playing a character, his younger self, a pre-enlightened rap star blind to the world around him. He uses his influence to feed his ego and escalate conflict with his peers rather than unite them.

It's not unlike many hip-hop artists who use music to free themselves from poverty, yet ultimately remains stunted, unable to evolve past their own selfish consumption. One such artist that did not get a chance to evolve was Mossberg. By using Mossberg's Get Naked, Kendrick is aligning his younger self with Kenny Burns' tragic story, that if he continues on this path of consumption, he may end up with a similar fate. Also, did you catch earlier in the episode when we stated that Mossberg was killed on July 4th, America's Independence Day? If you remember, July 4th was prominently referenced on the album's previous track for free,

the same track that features the refrain, This Dick Ain't Free. Things get somewhat spooky when we realize Mossberg's album, Nonfiction, contains a song called Dick Ain't Free. If that's not enough connection, the use of Mossberg will come to have even more significance by the album's end. If you'll remember our analysis of Wesley Siri, I mentioned that Tupac's final words to Kendrick on the album's last song are, quote, we ain't really rapping, we're just letting our dead homies tell stories for us. Here, Kendrick is literally rapping over a reconstruction of a dead homie song, playing a similar character from a similar background telling a similar story. Personally, I find all these intricate layers a display

of Kendrick's genius and a prominent reason why to pimp a butterfly demands endless repeat. repeats and analysis. Conclusions. I'd like to end our examination of King Kunta with a quote from Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. Quote, perhaps I like Louis Armstrong because he's made poetry out of being invisible. I think it must be because he's unaware that he is invisible. And my own grasp of invisibility aids me to understand his music. Louis Armstrong, the virtuosic jazz trumpet player and singer, was seen by some as an Uncle Tom,

Tom, obedient to mainstream white America. Ellison's unnamed narrator praises Armstrong for creating poetry despite his invisibility, and inequality in society because the color of his skin. Though he's applauded, it's solely for the entertainment of the privileged. Like Armstrong, Kendrick at this point in the narrative is unaware of his invisibility. He creates poetry that garners him success, yet he's still unenlightened, still a caterpillar being pimped, pimped by the industry for monetary gain, by society for entertainment and by himself for his own selfish consumption.

On King Kunta, Kendrick returns home to gloat, and who can blame him? Having lived in a system in which just surviving was difficult enough, fame and fortune of any kind would fuel the majority of us to feel like a king. Hell, even without a rough Compton upbringing, money has dawned plenty of people with a sense of entitlement and ego. But while tremendous success is the pinnacle and conclusion of most people's story, were only on song three, and Kendrick's journey has just begun. Wesley's theory, Four Free, and King Kunta make up to Pimp a Butterfly's first act,

a prologue of sorts to the album's narrative of ignorance to enlightenment, from consumption to reciprocation, from adolescent to leader, from caterpillar to butterfly. The transformation begins with the first iteration of a poem that will be used to glue the narrative arc together from this point on. We hear the beginning lines of this poem at the end of King Kunta. before the album continues with the next track institutionalized. I remember you was conflicted. Misusing your influence.

We'll address this piece of the mysterious poem, recap act one, and break down the album's next track institutionalized next time on Dysect. Dysect is written and produced by me. If you've enjoyed what you've heard, consider rating Dysect on iTunes. It really helps.

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