good kid, m.A.A.d. city by Kendrick Lamar: Review
Kendrick's first major release recounts the few hours that may have saved his life in the best storytelling album of all time
note: if you’re reading this in an email, it’s too long and will get cut off. so open it in your browser to read the whole thing!
Intro
I’ve never cried at a piece of media. As the rest of the theater bawled their eyes out around me, I stayed stone-faced and silent. The most emotional scenes in the most legendary TV series elicited zero reaction. The characters I got attached to through thousands of pages of Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and The Hunger Games couldn’t even move me with their deaths.
The fictional aspects of those shows created a degree of separation between my feelings and their experiences. Even if I loved Nacho from Better Call Saul, in the end, there’s only so much attachment you can have to a nonexistent person.
That separation didn’t exist when I heard Kendrick reliving the lives—and deaths—of his friends back home, in the titular m.A.A.d. city. I successfully held back tears like I always did, but I’ve never wanted to let them go more.
In future reviews, I’m going to recap the album, its main themes, strengths, and weaknesses before getting into the song-by-song breakdown. But for this review, to begin the Substack, I’m going to make an exception for two reasons:
The best way to experience this album is to listen to it yourself. If you haven’t heard it yet, genuinely listen to it either before or as you read through this review. I don’t want to spoil anything in specific since it’s a linear, chronological story that unfolds as you listen through each song on the album.
I think it’s far more productive to focus on how impactful this album was as a whole on my view on music because I’ve never been personally affected by any piece of media like I have by this one. I’ll summarize and wrap things up at the end after I’ve broken the album down by individual songs.
For me, this album was the catalyst for me recognizing the non-aesthetic value of art. This is to say, before listening to this album, I bought very little of what we were taught in English class. I thought that novels were solely defined by their plot, and the “theme” of a book was something that was just coincidentally supported by the events within its pages. I thought that “symbols” were just the product of English teachers overthinking inanimate objects and turning them into things they were not.
But good kid, m.A.A.d. city is an album that manages to boast impressive features like Drake, Dr. Dre, and Jay Rock (and was even supposed to feature Lady Gaga), creative production such as the reversed “Silver Soul” sample on “Money Trees” and the Powerpuff Girls on “Backseat Freestyle,” as well as perhaps one of the hardest verses of all time in the first half of “m.A.A.d. city” while still incorporating a very in-your-face commentary on endemic gang violence, teenage recklessness, and self-improvement.
Taking one look at the Album of the Year page for this project shows that several people had the same experience I did. There isn’t much to say about this album that hasn’t already been said—so let’s experience it again together.
1. Sherane a.k.a. Master Splinter’s Daughter
As the song that begins the narrative of the album, there’s quite a bit to unpack here. First, we start with a group prayer—context is provided far later in the album, showing the brilliance of this opening—but you can tell that religion is at least minimally involved in this narrative. Slow, menacing music begins fading in, setting a mysterious and dark tone for the opening track.
The lyricism and storytelling here is perhaps the best on the whole album—it transitions back and forth between Kendrick’s inner thoughts and the events playing out in front of him. His thoughts at this stage open the narrative that initially identifies his mental state as highly immature—overlooking excessively obvious red flags surrounding her background, characteristics, and circumstances.
We know a lot 'bout each other, her mother was a crack addict
She live with her granny and her younger two brothers
Her favorite cousin Demetrius is irrepetible
Family history of gangbangin' did make me skeptical
But not enough to stop me from gettin' a nut
"I wanna come over, what's up?"
An outstanding artistic move in this song is that Sherane’s negative details are interwoven slowly through the track, but are always dominated by Kendrick’s lust, exhibiting the dominance of sexual desires over logical thought in his teenage mind—something that eventually gets him jumped. Overall, this is a perfect way to begin the journey into Kendrick’s disastrous day.
SCORE: 10/10
2. Bitch, Don’t Kill My Vibe
I’m excited for officially the first hot take of the Substack: This song is pretty overrated. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a good Kendrick song—making it automatically better than maybe 90% of hip-hop songs out there—but it is nowhere near good enough to be perhaps the most recognized and popular song on this album while clear 10/10s that are literal poetry like “The Art of Peer Pressure” and “good kid” get 1/10s of the streams that BDKMV gets.
So what are my gripes with this song? It’s the only song aside from “Compton” not to directly advance the album’s narrative through its content (with Compton making sense since it’s the album’s victory lap, while this song is the second on the album, meaning the shift is very out of place). It shifts the timeline entirely, being a diss directed toward the sinful tendencies of the rap industry. The music itself also seems to carry a conflicted identity, quickly transitioning from the slow, spiritual-like, introspective chorus to the quick-moving, hype verses.
Aside from those grievances, though, the song is still excellent. The production switches seamlessly between the toned-down and exciting sections of the song. The dual mood is not something I like artistically, but it’s executed well. The lyricism is also incredible in the song’s context as a pseudo-diss track:
This shit is vital, I know you had to, this shit is vital, I know you had to
Die in a pitiful vain, tell me a watch and a chain is way more believable
Give me a feasible gain, rather a seasonal name, I'll let the people know
This is somethin' you can blame on yourselves, you can remain stuck in a box
I'ma breakout and then hide every lock, I'ma breakout and then hide every lock
Despite my minor complaints, it’s hard not to like this song.
SCORE: 9/10
3. Backseat Freestyle
It’s crazy how the song Kendrick specifically wrote to sound shallow and childish is actually a lot less immature than the content rappers have been pumping out recently.
This song is a great representation of Kendrick’s early forays into hip-hop. It reflects the same sentiments he complained the industry was dominated by in the last track:
All my life I want money and power
Respect my mind or die from lead shower
For a song that’s meant to represent what Kendrick isn’t after his new outlook on life, it still goes unbelievably hard, even lyrically. It’s a perfect view, similar to “Sherane,” on the vices and desires that define teenage life. It also has some incredible sampling behind it, incorporating an episode of the Powerpuff Girls:
Everything comes together, from the beat to the lyrics to the incredible performance.
SCORE: 10/10
4. The Art of Peer Pressure
We finally return to the album’s main narrative with “The Art of Peer Pressure.” Kendrick’s incredible storytelling shines through again, raising the themes of youth immaturity once again, but this time also roping in the idea of peer pressure.
Smokin' on the finest dope, ayy-ayy-ayy-ah
Drank until I can't no mo', ayy-ayy-ayy-ah
Really I'm a sober soul
But I'm with the homies right now
And we ain't askin' for no favors
Rush a n***a quick, then laugh about it later, ayy-ayy-ayy-ah
Really, I'm a peacemaker
But I'm with the homies right now
This is probably the least song-like song on the entire album. There’s no defined chorus, some of the verses are just Kendrick talking, and the beat inexplicably switches and pauses and plays at some points. But the disorganized structure of the song honestly works well for this piece: it precisely demonstrates that the song is a collection of jumbled memories that Kendrick pieces together from his adolescence. The storytelling here is as strong as on “Sherane,” and many of the verses just being audio of Kendrick “with the homies” ties it all together.
This is an incredibly underrated song: the chill beat is perfect for the story-like verses, the commentary on peer pressure is sound (sober vs. drunk, a peacemaker vs. acting violent, etc.), and the unorthodox structure is incredibly effective.
SCORE: 10/10
5. Money Trees
This song captures the essence of the entire album. Story-wise, it recaps elements from each of the previous songs:
I fucked Sherane and went to tell my bros (Tell my bros, tell my bros)
Hot sauce all in our Top Ramen, ya bish (Ya bish, ya bish)
Park the car, then we start rhymin', ya bish (Ya bish, ya bish)
Home invasion was persuasive (Was persuasive, was persuasive)
From nine to five I know it's vacant, ya bish (Ya bish, ya bish)
It also, consistent with the rest of the album, has an outstanding sample (a reversed version of Beach House’s Silver Soul) that makes me ascend upon hearing it, the beautiful lyricism that’s expected from a Kendrick song, and an amazing Jay Rock feature (where he maybe even outshines Kendrick).
The theme of the song surrounds the question Kendrick asks in the chorus:
It go Halle Berry or hallelujah
Halle Berry represents worldly pleasures and hallelujah represents taking the moral, religious other path. The rest of the song falls in line with this idea: “the shooter” who chooses the first path gets fear, and thus, respect, but “the one in front of the gun” is forever immortalized and martyred, their death an unfortunate byproduct of gang life.
The title “Money Trees” beautifully reflects what Kendrick believes to be the source of this evil: money. He laments how “A dollar might just fuck your main bitch,” or “A dollar might say fuck them n****s that you came with.”
The last thing that needs to be highlighted is the Jay Rock verse where he wraps up the narrative of the song by illustrating the dichotomy between his circumstances growing up in the “projects where them n****s pick your pockets” and his dreams of “gettin' shaded under a money tree.”
SCORE: 10/10
6. Poetic Justice
This song—likely due to the Drake feature—is the fourth most streamed song on the whole album. Is it the fourth best? Definitely not. Is it still good? Yeah, it is.
Let’s start with the production. Sampling Janet Jackson on the song was very fitting since it gives the romance-focused song a slow, melodic backing. If it weren’t for the craziness that is Backseat Freestyle, this would probably be the album’s best sample.
Lyrically, though, is where it falls short, especially in Drake’s verse. Drake’s songwriting is solid, but it doesn’t mesh well with the very conscious-oriented album and storyline Kendrick has been building up to this point.
You can’t help but notice the contrast between Kendrick’s and Drake’s verses. Kendrick’s verse calls back to his messaging on “Sherane,” when he talks about how women circumvent his sense of rationality:
If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?
I mean, I write poems in these songs dedicated to you when
You're in the mood for empathy, there's blood in my pen
The “flower” here references a girl (likely Sherane). He describes how because of her upbringing in that “dark room,” any songs he writes about her are written with blood in his pen—how any girl that he tries to insult in his verses has a messed-up background of her own that puts them in a position to try and exploit Kendrick.
Then you take a look at Drake’s verse, and it’s him complaining that his girl doesn’t want him even though he could totally pay for her to be flown out anywhere she wants:
Young East African girl, you too busy fuckin' witcha other man
I was tryna put you on game, put you on a plane, take you and your momma to the motherland, I could do it
Despite that, this song is still catchy, the sampling is still perfect, and the track still deserves praise.
SCORE: 9/10
7. good kid
Here’s the mood shift of the album. The instrumental is noticeably darker. The lyrics are less about girls, money, and drugs, and more about gang violence and police abuse. Kendrick’s voice even delivers a tone of desperation.
Production-wise, the dark, melodic beat with the “dan-dan-dan-dan” vocals fits the song perfectly, building suspense for a payoff that seems to never come.
Where this song shines most, though, is lyrically. The past few songs that have been strong on their lyricism (“Sherane” and “Peer Pressure”) both did it through storytelling—but this one does it through both storytelling and raw bars. Each of its three verses discusses a different low of Kendrick’s early life and ends with a mention of “good kid, m.A.A.d. city:” Kendrick remarks that he’s a perfectly fine individual: it’s what’s around him that’s ruining his life for the worse.
The first verse discusses gang violence after he gets jumped by the gang members affiliated with Sherane. (If you’re confused about the timeline here, “Sherane” describes the moment he gets jumped, “BDKMV” isn’t a part of the timeline, then “Backseat Freestyle” through “Poetic Justice” consists of flashbacks, until we hear Kendrick get jumped at the end of “Poetic Justice.”) Kendrick perfectly illustrates the good kid / m.A.A.d. city contrast around the end of this verse:
No better picture to paint than me walkin' from Bible study
And called his homies because he had said he noticed my face
The second verse discusses the police fallout from his altercation with the gang members. He describes his perspective on police brutality here (“Every time you clock in the morning, I feel you just want to kill,” and “that don't matter because the matter is racial profile”) while intertwining it with actual events in which the police disregarded his young age and how he’s likely a “good kid.”
I heard 'em chatter: "He's prob'ly young, but I know that he's down
Step on his neck as hard as your bullet-proof vest
He don't mind, he know we'll never respect
The good kid, m.A.A.d. city."
The third verse discusses the use of drugs (which he lovingly calls “grown-up candy”). But the idea of drugs mostly serves as a background for the main focus of this song, which is about how his community transforms even the best individuals into bad ones.
The streets sure to release the worst side of my best
Don't mind, 'cause now you ever in debt to good kid, m.A.A.d. city
Easily a top-three song that deserves so much more love.
SCORE: 10/10
Fun fact: I genuinely used to think
But what am I 'posed to do when the topic is red or blue
Was referencing how both Democrats and Republicans would, election after election, neglect the most underserved communities, making them unable to choose between two parties that both hated them. Obviously, this wasn’t true: the line references gang warfare (blood/crip), and I really need to do less debate.
8. m.A.A.d. city
This song is incredible. Every bar hits, the chorus hypes you up, both beats (and the beat switch) work so well, and the narrative is perfect.
Immediately, Kendrick dispels our predispositions about what this song will be about:
This is not a rap on how I'm slingin' crack or move cocaine
This is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major pain
Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighin' on your brain
The commentary here is very clear: the rest of the rap industry loves to glorify drug use, drug dealing, etc. But the harsh reality is that none of those things are nearly as pretty as they’re made out to be.
The rest of the song is just bar after bar—delivered in a tone of clear anger towards not just Kendrick’s rivals in the city, but the existence of gang violence and rivalries as a whole. The references to guns, bodies, bullets, and truces strewn throughout the first verse are a chilling representation of the effects of gang life.
The second verse is just as strong, where the good kid / m.A.A.d. city distinction is maybe the most obvious it’s been through the whole album. Kendrick loses a job over an attempted robbery, has a revelation about the inevitability of criminal behavior over seeing a stolen car crash, and shows that—even at his current point of success—he’s not innocent and carries many sins from his old days.
The instrumental and sampling here are also great, just like the rest of the album, but the songwriting is really what makes this song perfect.
SCORE: 10/10
9. Swimming Pools
This is the ultimate party song, which is both fitting and ironic. But when you don’t listen to it blaring out of one of your friend’s speakers, you uncover a whole new depth to it. First off, the instrumental perfectly encapsulates the name of the song—the deep, slow notes give off the feeling of quite literally swimming/being underwater.
In terms of its content, the song explores the phenomenon of alcoholism. While most other songs address several topics, this song focuses solely on alcohol. Kendrick provides an accurate analysis of the reasons for falling into alcoholism: influence from one’s parents, the desire to fit in, the need to kill pain or sorrow, etc.
This song, as showcased by its popularity, has the best vocals and catchiest hook of the album, with lines you can recognize from anywhere:
N***a, why you babysittin' only two or three shots?
I'ma show you how to turn it up a notch
First, you get a swimming pool full of liquor, then you dive in it
Pool full of liquor, then you dive in it
I wave a few bottles, then I watch 'em all flock
All the girls wanna play Baywatch
I got a swimming pool full of liquor and they dive in it
Po-Pool full of liquor, I'ma dive in it
Some great lyricism that is overlooked, though, is Kendrick speaking to his conscience about falling into alcohol addiction and the third verse about the fallout of alcohol and drugs. This song certainly deserves its popularity.
SCORE: 10/10
10. Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst
This is my favorite song in all of hip-hop. Everything is perfect on it, from its twelve-minute length to Kendrick’s voice-switching from the verses to the chorus to the impeccable sampling and production. And obviously, the lyricism on this song is like poetry—this is the point at the album where I nearly cried.
First, the production. The beat on the first part of this song (“Sing About Me”) is backed by an incredibly complex sample.
Aside from its complexity alone, the somber tone it sets is wonderfully appropriate for what Kendrick will subsequently rap over it. The second half of this song has another sample that’s just as good, setting a similar mood of sadness but this time blending it with a sense of loss and even desperation:
Kendrick’s vocals and performance on this song are similarly top-notch. The high-pitched, spirit-like voice he adopts on the chorus of “Sing About Me” fits amazingly. He slowly builds up his vocals from sad and lost on “Sing About Me” to irritated on “Dying of Thirst.” Bar after bar comes out with successively more pain and anger to create a great emotional narrative. Maya Angelou even appears midway through!
But obviously, where this song shines through the strongest—and what makes it the best hip-hop song of all time—is the lyricism. This song essentially wraps up the narrative after Kendrick’s friend dies at the end of “Swimming Pools,” the climax of the album’s narrative. Subsequently, in “Sing About Me,” Kendrick raps from the perspective of each of his friends to show the full fallout of those events.
He uses the chorus on SAM to lay out the song’s theme:
When the lights shut off and it's my turn
To settle down, my main concern
Promise that you will sing about me
Promise that you will sing about me
This is the manifestation of Kendrick’s promise to sing about his friends should he ever lose them: the “lights shutting off” and “settle down” are used to insinuate death.
The first verse is from Dave’s brother (Dave, who was killed at the end of the last song.)
Everybody's a victim in my eyes
When I ride it's a murderous rhythm
And outside became pitch black
A demon glued to my back, whispering "Get 'em!"
I got 'em and I ain't give a fuck
That same mentality I told my brother not to duck
This verse talks about the self-fulfilling prophecy of gang violence: everyone who’s lost is treated as a victim by those around them, who subsequently continue the cycle by taking retribution on the ones who originally committed the murder.
The second verse is from the perspective of a prostitute. The background for this verse is that on his mixtape Section 80, he wrote a song about someone named “Keisha” who went down the pipeline towards prostitution. This verse is Keisha’s sister attempting to justify her actions in the context of the community they live in. She vehemently defends her actions, saying that despite indicators of negative health, she “feels great” and will “never fade away.” At the end of the verse, she does just that, as her voice gets quieter, insinuating that she has died.
The third verse is from the perspective of Kendrick himself, talking about the events that have occurred up to this point in the album’s storyline. At this point, he’s desensitized to death since it’s become so common around him:
Sometimes I look in the mirror
And ask myself: Am I really scared of passin' away?
If it's today, I hope I hear a
Cry out from Heaven so loud it can water down a demon
With the Holy Ghost 'til it drown in the blood of Jesus
This verse is essentially the payoff for the events on the album’s previous songs, with Kendrick considering his position in heaven. This religious thought soon becomes the catalyst for Kendrick’s revival and escape from the titular m.A.A.d. city, when the narrative goes full circle from the prayer that initially begins the album.
This religious revival that the album’s been hinting at for the past few songs (ex. “I am a sinner / who’s probably gonna sin again” on BDKMV) finally happens on “Dying of Thirst,” the second part of this song. The verses are replete with religious imagery:
How many sins, oh? I'm runnin' out, oh
How many sins, oh? I lost count
What are we doin', oh? Who are we foolin', oh?
Hell is hot, oh, fire is proven, oh
To burn for eternity, return of the student
That never learned how to live righteous but how to shoot it, oh
What if today was the rapture and you completely tarnished?
The truth will set you free, so to me be completely honest
You dyin' of thirst, you dyin' of thirst
So hop in that water, and pray that it works"
All of this eventually culminates in the prayer that we heard at the beginning of the album, led by a religious woman (who’s voiced by Maya Angelou) that Kendrick and his friends come across in the street while still reeling from the emotional fallout of Dave’s death. This is the best storytelling and lyricism I’ve ever seen from any song. The track is a perfect resolution for the album’s narrative.
SCORE: 11/10. (but 10/10 for rating purposes)
11. Real
This song is very over-hated and is consistently ranked as everyone’s least favorite on the album. I wholeheartedly disagree, and if you look hard at what most people’s problem is with this song, it’s literally just “the chorus is too repetitive.” There are 10000 songs with repetitive choruses, and that’s not nearly enough to bring down this song from the 10/10 that it deserves to be.
In terms of production, it’s quite solid—nothing to write home about, but it sounds pretty catchy musically. Vocals-wise, Anna Wise proves that she deserves to be such a frequent Kendrick collaborator with her vocals in the pre-chorus and chorus. To address the repetitive chorus—I don’t think it gets annoying, which is the reason most people have for disliking repetitiveness.
Lyrically and in the context of the story, though, is where this song gets most of its brilliance. Kendrick’s parents essentially talking sense into him is an incredible payoff for all of the album’s previous events.
Kenny, I ain't trippin' off them dominoes anymore. Just calling, sorry to hear what happened to your homeboy, but don't learn the hard way like I did, homie. Any n***a can kill a man, that don't make you a real n***a. Real is responsibility. Real is taking care of your motherfucking family. Real is God, n***a!
This song is the culmination of Kendrick’s escape from the vices of the m.A.A.d. city and it is a great way to wrap up the album. This would have been such a last song, but of course, they had to put in a Dr. Dre feature.
SCORE: 10/10
12. Compton
My hatred for this song’s existence is unmatched. This completely ruins the album’s whole flow, in my opinion, but I understand why it had to be put in. The two roles that this song (appropriately) serves are:
A “passing of the torch” of hip-hop from Dre to Kendrick
A victory lap for the album
I think the first role makes a lot of sense, especially since if you get a feature from the (father? cool uncle?) of hip-hop, you gotta take it. The second role doesn’t make as much sense though. You just spent a whole album dissing on this city for being terrible, full of sin and vice, and turning good, moral individuals into the opposite. It’s incredibly confusing and very out of place.
As a song, though, ignoring the context of the rest of the album, this track doesn’t raise much to complain about. The hook is catchy, the production and sampling are great, and Dre and Kendrick’s vocals are all great. Ultimately, though, as the only bump in an otherwise perfect album and story, its shortcomings on that front can unfortunately not be overlooked.
SCORE: 8/10
Wrap-Up and Overall
There’s not too much more to say here. This album is a great story that flows through from one song to the next to eventually form a beautiful overarching narrative. In terms of storytelling, there’s no other album that can live up to this—I think my analysis of each individual song is enough to prove this to you.
Breaking down the album by each song, every song is near-perfect musically, with my only real complaints being over context and certain parts that don’t fit into the narrative as well as they could—but those parts aren’t necessarily bad, in fact, they’re far from bad—I can still listen to Compton over and over, disregarding my grievances with it. This album just gets even more perfect when you put everything together.
In terms of production, this album has perfect and appropriate sampling from a diverse pool of sources. Each instrumental fits the song and sets an appropriate mood.
In sum, this look into Kendrick’s upbringing and past doubles as an advocacy against the sins and vices common in gang- and drug-ridden communities. It’s a perfect representation of his early life in album form and is an album I can listen to over and over again, with the narrative hitting just as hard each time.
OVERALL SCORE: 9.7/10
TL;DR:
Best:
Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst
m.A.A.d. city
good kid
Worst: Compton
Best Lyricism: Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst
Best Production: Backseat Freestyle
Best Performance: m.A.A.d. city
Best Feature: Jay Rock, Money Trees
Most Overrated: Poetic Justice
Most Underrated: good kid
i wonder who’s side u were on in the beef🤔
ate with this one