But although Kendrick’s professional dreams were coming through, an intriguing consequence began taking shape: He was becoming a political figure—however reluctantly. To Pimp a Butterfly was being hailed as a different kind of breakthrough, mostly because of songs like “Alright,” “The Blacker the Berry,” and “Hood Politics,” the last of which thumbed its nose at the U.S. political system. Kendrick’s new perch unsettled him; he was still coming to grips with his own political views—in rap music, and otherwise. In 2012, Kendrick admitted that he didn’t vote, that he was disillusioned with the country’s political leaders and the direction the U.S. was headed. He put his faith in God, not man. “I don’t believe in none of the shit that’s going on in the world,” he once said. “So basically, do what you do, do good with your people and live your life because what’s going on isn’t really in our hands. If it’s not in the president’s hands, then it’s definitely not in our hands.” The song “Hood Politics” doubled down on this notion; Kendrick compared Congress to gang members fighting over territory, just like his friends whom the public sought to vilify. “From Compton to Congress, it’s set trippin’ all around,” Kendrick rhymed. “Ain’t nothin’ new but a flew of new Demo-Crips and Re-Blood-licans / Red state versus a blue state, which one you governin’?”
In his heart of hearts, Kendrick didn’t want to be the catalyst of any sort of political fodder. He was still a loner, still the isolated soul who’d rather sit in the corner and watch from afar. He preferred self-reflection; America was headed down the wrong path and he was trying to comprehend it like everyone else. He didn’t have all the answers, but his music proved that he was willing to work through it with the rest of us. With his newfound stardom, Kendrick was finding out that he couldn’t have it both ways, that he couldn’t create that kind of music and say those kinds of things without touching nerves. He was the voice of the people now, and to sit on the sidelines was no longer an option. It was a compelling contradiction and an unintended side effect. Kendrick had high hopes for good kid, m.A.A.d city and To Pimp a Butterfly, but he didn’t anticipate this level of reaction or dissection of his art so soon. Changing the course of hip-hop is one thing, but raising the ire of right-wingers was something entirely different. That’s partially why Kendrick’s message echoed so deeply in the black community: he wasn’t trying to become a legislator, and that he couldn’t be bullied only riled up the right even further.
Kendrick’s worlds were beginning to collide. That December, President Barack Obama spoke to People magazine about his favorite songs, albums, and moments of 2015, and revealed that Kendrick’s “How Much a Dollar Cost” was his favorite track of the year. Within the scope of pop culture, this news proved once again that Obama was a man of the people, that even though he was the commander in chief, he tapped the pulse of what was in vogue. It also showed that he was open to differing opinions and respected the free speech that Kendrick epitomized throughout To Pimp a Butterfly. The record wasn’t at all flattering to politicians or the societal constructs that divide the country. But the president heard the art in it, and he respected Kendrick’s viewpoint, even if it didn’t paint him or the system in the best light. President Obama even got an explicit shoutout on “Hood Politics”: “They give us guns and drugs, call us thugs / Make it they promise to fuck with you / No condom, they fuck with you, Obama say, ‘What it do?’ ”
The president took it a step further when asked in a YouTube chat whom he’d pick in a rap battle between Kendrick and Drake. “I think Drake is an outstanding entertainer,” Obama said in 2016. “But, Kendrick, his lyrics… his last album [To Pimp a Butterfly] was outstanding. Best album I think last year.” Obama had been elected to the White House when Kendrick was just twenty years old, back when the rapper was still in Compton and hadn’t seen the world. In those days, Kendrick could only imagine a way out, and no politician could solve his friends being killed in cold blood. President Obama wasn’t there in the city; Kendrick couldn’t touch or see his impact. So it was tough to fathom that some man in an office 2,700 miles away could solve the struggle in his backyard. Obama wasn’t there to negotiate peace between Pirus and Crips, and he wasn’t there when Kendrick’s uncle got popped at Louis Burgers.
But to see Obama was something completely different; you didn’t realize his magnitude until you were in the same room with him, or at least in the same vicinity. For those of us in Washington, D.C., and its suburbs, the Obama presidency hit us differently. We were on constant Obama Watch; you never knew when he’d pop up in the restaurant you were in, or if he was at the same concert you were attending. Not only was he the country’s celebrity, but he was our celebrity. To see him and Michelle was the ultimate thrill, and with each passing motorcade, there was this question: “Was that… him?!”
In January 2016, Kendrick traveled to Washington, D.C., and to the White House, to meet President Obama in person. Not even a year earlier, Kendrick had photoshopped himself and his friends mobbing in front of this very building, flashing stacks of money on its lawn. But now he was there, speaking directly to the man. According to reports, they were there to discuss community building, to talk about cities like Compton and South Side Chicago and the challenges they were facing. In photos from the meeting,
