"Compton State of Mind" (2009) - Kendrick Lamar

On a deep-cut classic from Kendrick Lamar

Intro
Kendrick Lamar has become ubiquitous over the last decade+, one of the most widely-celebrated rappers of the era. He leapt into superstardom with Good Kid M.A.A.D City in late 2012, and consolidated his commercial and critical creds with every project since. But today I’d like to rewind even further, and take you back to 2009, when Kendrick released “Compton State Of Mind” on the Youtube page for his label, Top Dawg Entertainment.

Thoughts on the song

The song is a direct remix of “Empire State of Mind,” which was the biggest song in the world that year. Kendrick raps in a faux Jay-Z flow, and replaces the infamous Alicia Keys chorus with an uncredited female vocalist who mimics the hook melody with Compton subbed in for New York.

“Empire State of Mind” dropped in October ‘09, and Kendrick dropped the remix in December. With that in mind, it makes sense that he chose to essentially impersonate the Jay-Z flow on this song. Of course, ‘09-’12 Kendrick was one of the greatest rappers to ever live, and he totally steals the beat out from under Jay-Z; it’s fun to listen to a 21 year-old from Compton out-flowing the East Coast elder-statesman on his own song.

This was an absurdly productive era of K. Dot’s career, with C4 in the rearview and Overly Dedicated on the horizon, with a host of impeccable Youtube loosies and .mp3 leaks scattered in the intervening months. The imitative nature of “Compton State of Mind” was normal for Kendrick in this era, although Lil Wayne was usually his Northern Star. If you listen to “Play With Fire” you hear Weezy all over it.

In remixing “Empire State of Mind,” Kendrick made it his own in more ways than one. When Sean Carter mythologized New York City, he endeavored to take the wide-angle view of the biggest city in America. But Kendrick notably didn’t make “Los Angeles State of Mind,” narrowing the focus to explicitly position himself as a Compton rapper.

Me I'm from the hub city, Yeah that Compton court building
Caught a murder when his homie died, Judge caught feelings
I’m on Rosecrans chilling right inside best outlets
Five dollar Little Caesar, Momma shopped at Food 4 Less

Right off the bat, Kendrick is taking us through a whirlwind of Compton as he sees it, proudly claiming the city while simultaneously pairing it with devastating asides about the consequences of street violence and the realities of growing up there. As always, Kendrick embodies himself in the music with street names and physical locations.

Bitches with fat asses, burners in the stashes
Murders in July call that summer time madness
Rest in peace 4benz, rest in peace Mossberg
Swear to god when I make it big yo voice will be heard
Me I’m just a good kid, trying to keep it positive
Though I know its chaos forever my heart will live in...

Kendrick imitates the Jay-Z cadence here, letting his vocal tone rise as he builds to the soaring chorus, but he’s still Kendrick Lamar. And Kendrick - especially at this stage - could not help but stuff his verses with multi-syllabic words, memorial shout-outs, bracing reminders of death. This is the part of the song I listen to over and over. He’s appallingly good at this. I’m especially drawn to the hedonism/fatalism dichotomy of the first line: “Bitches with fat asses, burners in the stashes…”

The next chorus lead-in serves a different purpose, getting as close as Kendrick ever has to uncomplicated, me-next triumphalism:

Pac was on Rosecrans, nigga I was right there
Cali Love video, he said whatup I said yeah
Free my nigga J-Dub and both of the J-mans
Easy paved the way, little easy bout to get it in for…

Here, Kendrick explicitly places himself within the lineage of West Coast rap, telling us about the time he met Pac and crowning himself as the successor to Eazy E. It’s an exhilarating framing, both messianic and entirely justified. Less than three years later, Kendrick was on stage with Snoop, Dre, Kurupt and the Game in LA, as they explicitly handed him the torch.

But my favorite verse comes at the end, as Kendrick’s obscene technical competency comes to the fore.

I'm talking bout Westside Piru, N.H.P., Campanella, Carvell Park
Front hood, Nutty Blocc, Latana, 151, Park Village
Cedar Block, Santana
Burgundy and Blue bandanas
Peace! Peace!
Fruit Town, Kelly Park, Southside, Elm Street
Poccet Hood, ATF, MOB, LPP, 135, BTP
Atlantic Drive, Limehood, NAC, PBC
Peace! Peace!
Tragniew, Compton Ramen, Tree-Top, Mona Park, T Flats, 7 Os, 155
Compton Swamps, Holly hood, Key songs
All a nigga really want for us to keep
Peace! Peace!

Here, Kendrick underlines his lack of commitment to any one gang by referencing nearly every gang in Compton, bloods and crips alike. Strikingly, he punctuates the verse with Peace! Peace! From the beginning, this was Kendrick all the way - obsessively cognizant of the way that gangbanging permeates his city, but dedicated to the idea that peace - or at least detente - is possible. On a technical level, his ability to fashion a pitch-perfect flow out of an endless stream of multi-syllabic names is pure Kendrick. When he was rapping like this, there was truly no one better.

Conclusion

Growing up as a white teenager in Cleveland, Kendrick offered a relatable first-person POV into a famously fraught, dangerous part of the world. He framed himself, first implicitly and then literally, as the good kid in a maad city, and made essential rap music that turned millions of heads. Songs like “Compton State of Mind” or “The Art of Peer Pressure” were transformative for me, opening new horizons of music.

But as I grew into my rap fandom, and as Kendrick became more famous, I felt less interested in his music. When he made To Pump A Butterfly, a masterfully-crafted and novelistic jazz-rap album that covered everything from police violence to the meaning of money, I started to check out. It felt like the writing was becoming less specific as Kendrick’s scope widened over the years to match his growing fame, like the message was getting lost as layers of ambiguity and subtlety were shedded. I felt embarrassed to have been a white guy obsessed with capital-I “Important” rap music, and prioritized melodic experimentation (think Peep, Lean, Thug) alongside harder-hitting street-rap authenticity (Youngboy, Gates, Greedo). I didn’t want to listen to “cheesy” music, so I aimed for irreverence, seeking out casual brilliance in new-wave savants.

I’m almost 30 now, and old enough to revisit the music I used to love. Not all of it holds up - I’m looking at you, Big Sean. But this early Kendrick stuff - this song in particular - does more than hold up. It feels important, prescient. In retrospect, there was nothing cheesy about Kendrick’s obsession with documenting gang violence, because every year it seems that same violence claims another rapper in Los Angeles. In the last few years alone we have lost Pop Smoke, Nipsey Hussle, PnB Rock, Drakeo The Rula to gang beef, and MoneySign Suede. There are more names I could add to that list, and even more names that I don't know, names that we never got the chance to know.

So when I listen to “Compton State of Mind,” what stands out to me are the constant reminders of violence, of mortality, of prison. I think about the bracing clarity with which Kendrick Lamar saw his city, how much he taught us about his city, how much he desperately wanted to fix.