Hip-Hop Politics – Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl Halftime Show

This past Sunday, Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl 2025 halftime show has quickly become one of the most talked-about—and controversial—performances in recent Super Bowl history. He took the stage with a powerful setlist that included “GNX”, “Squabble Up”, “HUMBLE”, “DNA”, “Euphoria”, “Man at the Garden”, “Peekaboo”, “Luther”, “All the Stars”, “Not Like Us”, and “TV Off”, and Lamar delivered one of the most impactful performances of his career. His show boldly addressed the mistreatment of Black Americans and the growing divisions within the United States. The performance has sparked a wave of backlash and acclaim, with many joking on social media platforms like TikTok that the new “Who did you vote for?” has become “Did you enjoy the halftime show?” In this article, we’ll take an in-depth look at Kendrick Lamar’s performance and unpack the powerful messages woven throughout.

Dot’s Explosive Opening

The show opens with a striking visual: the camera pans to a stage designed to resemble a giant PlayStation console, a nod to modern culture and the influence of media on contemporary society. Standing on the field is Samuel L. Jackson, dressed as America’s iconic figure: Uncle Sam is traditionally depicted as an elderly white man who symbolizes patriotism, liberty, and national unity. Uncle Sam has long served as a personification of the United States. Jackson’s portrayal, however, subverts this image—his commanding presence and sharp delivery challenge the audience’s expectations from the very start. With a wide grin, Jackson declares, “Salutations! It’s your uncle, Sam, and this is the Great American Game.” setting the tone for a performance that will blur the lines between entertainment, social commentary, and political critique. As his words echo through the stadium, the music kicks in, and Kendrick Lamar emerges, kneeling atop an actual GNX vehicle.

This symbolic gesture immediately calls to mind protests against racial injustice, most notably Colin Kaepernick’s iconic stance. Kendrick launches into a teaser from his album “GNX”, an introspective body of work that celebrates West Coast pride, resilience, and personal triumph, while also dissecting his journey through the hip-hop industry and the societal struggles faced by Black Americans. As the beat intensifies, a surge of dancers spills out from the GNX vehicle, their outfits meticulously designed in red, white, and blue. These colors not only represent the American flag but also reference the notorious gang affiliations of the Crips and the Bloods, symbolizing the duality of national identity—unity and division coexisting within the same palette.

After delivering the electrifying teaser, Kendrick pauses, gripping the microphone fiercely. Just before launching into “Squabble Up”, he addresses the crowd with a chilling proclamation: “The revolution is about to be televised. You picked the right time, but the wrong guy.” This statement was a not-so-hidden reference to the famous poem “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” by Gil Scott-Heron written in 1970. The poem critiques mainstream media and consumer culture, emphasizing that real change won’t come through passive consumption. The poem rejects the idea that revolution can be packaged or broadcast, urging people to take direct action instead. Kendrick’s words reverberate like a call to arms, setting the stage for a performance that refuses to shy away from uncomfortable truths.

“DAMN.”’s Continued Influence and Underlying Messages

Following the performance of “Squabble Up”, Samuel L. Jackson reappears on stage, his voice booming with theatrical intensity. “No, no, no, no, no! Too loud! Too reckless! Too ghetto!” he shouts, his words dripping with condescension and irony, a sharp critique of how Black expression is often policed and dismissed in American society. He steps forward, pointing accusingly toward Kendrick, and sneers, “Mr. Lamar, do you really know how to play the game? Then tighten up!” His performance blurs the line between satire and confrontation, embodying the societal voices that attempt to stifle authenticity and rebellion. As Jackson’s words fade, the camera swiftly pans back to center stage.

The tension is palpable. A gritty guitar riff rips through the stadium, signalling the start of Kendrick Lamar’s “HUMBLE”. The stage transforms into a striking visual metaphor: dancers arranged meticulously in the formation of the American flag. Kendrick stands directly at the center, his presence creating a stark divide down the middle of the flag, symbolizing the fractured state of the nation—a nation grappling with deep-rooted political, racial, and cultural divisions. The choreography is deliberate and powerful. The dancers begin to march in unison, their movements mechanical, almost militaristic, reflecting themes of conformity and control. But as the performance transitions between tracks, that rigidity dissolves into chaos. The dancers break formation, frantically intertwining and colliding at the base of the stage, a visual representation of societal unrest, clashing identities, and the struggle for unity amidst chaos.

“DNA”

Suddenly, as if pulled by an unseen force, they scatter to the edges of the stage, making way for the explosive opening of “DNA”. “DNA”—a standout track from Kendrick’s critically acclaimed album “DAMN.”—bursts forth with raw energy. The song serves as both an anthem and a manifesto, exploring the complexities of Black identity in America. Through razor-sharp lyrics, Kendrick dissects the stereotypes imposed on Black Americans by mainstream society, challenging reductive narratives that paint them through a lens of criminality, aggression, or deficiency. Instead, he reclaims and redefines what’s in his “DNA”: resilience, creativity, pride, and an unbreakable connection to heritage and community.

As Kendrick spits verses with fierce precision, the stage becomes a living, breathing testament to Black excellence. The dancers’ movements reflect the duality Kendrick raps about—oscillating between struggle and triumph, pain and joy. The performance isn’t just entertainment; it’s a declaration, a celebration of Black culture’s contributions to art, activism, and identity. Through it all, Kendrick stands firm, embodying the message that despite attempts to suppress or control, his voice—and the voices of those he represents—cannot be silenced.

Ego, Unity, and the Cost of Conformity

Transitioning from “DNA”, Kendrick Lamar launches into “Euphoria”, a fiery track born from his highly publicized rap battle with Drake. The shift in tempo is immediate—Kendrick erupts with rapid-fire verses, his delivery sharp and unrelenting. His dancers mirror his intensity, moving in perfect synchronization with his every step, creating a ripple effect of kinetic energy that amplifies the song’s raw emotion. As the beat escalates, the dancers break formation, splitting into two rigid single-file lines flanking Kendrick on either side. Their heads hang low, fists clenched tightly, as they march in unison with mechanical precision. This imagery starkly contrasts the free-flowing energy from moments before, symbolizing the dehumanizing rigidity of corporate America—the lifeless, monotonous grind that strips individuality in favor of conformity and control. Kendrick stands between them, both part of and separate from this oppressive structure, his voice cutting through the facade with defiance and clarity.

As “Euphoria” reaches its climax, the stage darkens momentarily before shifting to a new set piece: a solitary lamppost bathed in a cold, white spotlight. Kendrick steps into this hauntingly minimalist scene to perform “Man at the Garden”, a track rich with introspection and layered symbolism. Surrounding him are dancers who sway and harmonize in eerie unison, their voices blending into an atmospheric chorus that echoes the communal hum of “the block”—a metaphor for both neighborhood solidarity and the collective consciousness of Black communities. High above them, one dancer lies draped across the lamppost, their body limp and suspended in a position that casts a chilling silhouette resembling the Hanged Man from tarot imagery. This visual isn’t accidental. In tarot, the Hanged Man signifies surrender, sacrifice, and the painful process of letting go—an invitation to shift one’s perspective and embrace a higher understanding. The shadow looms over Kendrick as he raps about his own struggles with ego, ambition, and insatiable desire.

“Man at the Garden”

In “Man at the Garden”, he draws parallels to the biblical story of Adam and Eve, confronting the duality of human nature—the eternal tug-of-war between wanting more and grappling with the guilt of having enough when so many have so little. As the final notes of the song fade into an uneasy silence, Samuel L. Jackson returns to the stage, his presence once again a jarring contrast to Kendrick’s introspection.

With a mocking tone, he announces, “Oh! You brought your homeboys with you. The old culture cheat code. Scorekeeper, deduct one life.” His words drip with sarcasm, serving as a biting critique of two intertwined issues: the power of Black unity and the systemic forces that seek to undermine it. On one level, it’s a jab at the enduring strength found in Black communities when they stand together—a “cheat code” in a game rigged against them. On another note, it’s a dark nod to the policing of Black bodies in America, where solidarity is often met with surveillance, suppression, and violence.

Drake’s Confrontation

Kendrick’s next move is both unexpected and deeply calculated. Instead of capitalizing on one of his chart-topping hits, he chooses to perform “Peekaboo”, a lesser-known track from his album. At first glance, this might seem like an odd choice for a stage as massive as the Super Bowl halftime show. However, Kendrick’s decision is anything but arbitrary—”Peekaboo” serves as another layered message, laced with subtle jabs and veiled symbolism that demands closer scrutiny. The performance begins with Kendrick standing dead center on the massive

console-inspired stage, positioned precisely in the middle of an enormous “X” design embedded into the set. The placement isn’t coincidental—the “X” rests on the 30-yard line, subtly referencing the Roman numeral “XXX,” which equals 30. This visual cue ties directly to the track’s underlying subtext: a pointed reference to the late rapper XXXTentacion and the conspiracy theories surrounding his death, including the alleged involvement of Drake. The symbolism deepens with Kendrick’s repetitive chant of the word “Peekaboo,” echoed exactly 17 times during the performance—a not-so-subtle nod to XXXTentacion’s critically acclaimed album “17”. Behind Kendrick, the only dancers present are dressed head-to-toe in white evoking imagery of the afterlife.

As “Peekaboo” concludes, Kendrick teases the opening riff of his diss track “Not Like Us”, a song notorious for its scathing critiques and confrontational tone. The crowd surges with anticipation, but Kendrick abruptly cuts the momentum short. Leaning into the mic, he mutters, “I gotta think about it… let’s slow it down for a minute,” leaving the audience suspended in a moment of tense uncertainty. Suddenly, Samuel L. Jackson reappears, his voice slicing through the silence with exasperated theatrics: “Oh! You done lost your damn mind!” The comedic timing lightens the mood for a brief moment before Kendrick shifts gears into “Luther”, a soulful, introspective track that contrasts sharply with the aggressive energy of “Peekaboo”.

As the melody unfolds, the stage lights dim to a warm amber glow, and none other than SZA emerges to join Kendrick—adding another layer of intrigue, considering her well-documented history with Drake as one of his former romantic interests. The chemistry between Kendrick and SZA is intoxicating, their voices weaving together seamlessly through shared verses. Their duet flows effortlessly into “All The Stars”, their Grammy-nominated collaboration from the “Black Panther” soundtrack. The performance takes on a grand, almost celestial quality, with dancers returning to the stage in disciplined formations, their movements echoing the militant motifs from earlier segments. As the final notes of “All The Stars” fade, Samuel L. Jackson reappears for what seems to be his closing commentary. His voice, now dripping with sarcasm and manufactured approval, booms, “Oh yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! That’s what America wants! Nice and calm! You’re almost there. Don’t mess this—” But before he can finish his sentence, his words are violently drowned out by the thunderous, unmistakable riff of “Not Like Us” crashing through the speakers. The interruption isn’t just abrupt—it’s deliberate. A sonic rebellion against conformity, against expectations, and against the very idea that Kendrick Lamar—or Black artistry—can be contained.

Kendrick Lamar’s Unapologetic Climax in Not Like Us and TV Off

As the Super Bowl halftime show barrels toward its peak, the anticipation in the stadium is unmistakable. Kendrick Lamar, sensing the gravity of the moment, pauses before launching into the most anticipated track of the evening. With the crowd hanging on his every word, he drops a powerful prelude, rapping, “Oh no, it’s a cultural divide, imma get it on the floor. 40 acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music. Yeah, they tried to rig the game, but you can’t fake influence.”

His words echo like a battle cry, piercing through the facade of entertainment to address the long history of systemic injustice in America. The reference to “40 acres and a mule” is a direct attack on the broken promises made to freed slaves after the Civil War, a promise that was never fulfilled. Kendrick boldly asserts that this performance is about more than just music—it’s about confronting America’s unfinished business, the deep-rooted inequalities that have persisted for generations. In this moment, Kendrick reclaims the narrative, claiming his influence is undeniable and rooted in something much larger than the entertainment industry.

“Not Like Us”

With the crowd roaring, Kendrick transitions into “Not Like Us”, the centrepiece of his highly publicized rap battle with Drake. This song, now a symbol of his fierce artistic and personal rivalry with the Canadian rapper, went on to become one of the most iconic diss tracks of the decade. Not only did it dominate the charts, but it also earned Kendrick a historic five Grammy wins, including Record of the Year, making Not Like Us the first diss track in history to claim multiple Grammys. The intensity of the performance mirrors the song’s charged lyrics, and as Kendrick spits each verse with relentless precision, his dancers move closer to the ground, creating a powerful visual tension.

Then, as Kendrick delivers the line, “I’m finna pass on this body, I’m John Stockton,” the dancers drop to the floor in perfect synchrony, their bodies contorting into a formation that evokes Nazi symbols. This chilling imagery is not without purpose; it’s a direct condemnation of the rising tide of anti-Semitism within the corridors of power in the United States, particularly within the White House and its cabinet. Kendrick makes it clear that this extremist ideology does not represent the views of all Americans. The message is clear: “These people are Not Like Us.”

The performance takes an unexpected but arguably iconic turn when Kendrick, with a wide grin on his face, turns to the camera and delivers one of the most memorable lines of the night: “Say Drake, I heard you like them young.” It’s a bold and direct shot across the bow at Drake, a fearless declaration to the world — and Drake — that Kendrick will not be silenced or intimidated. He’s unafraid of any potential legal ramifications for calling out the rapper by name in such a public forum.

As the camera pulls back, a subtle but deliberate formation begins to take shape on the stage. The dancers move into a pattern that seems to spell out a message, though its exact meaning remains a mystery. Viewers are left to speculate on what Kendrick might be trying to communicate, but the ambiguity only adds to the allure of the performance, leaving the audience hungry for further interpretation.

“TV Off”

In a surprising twist, the camera cuts to tennis legend Serena Williams, effortlessly crip walking to the beat, adding yet another layer to the spectacle. As another one of Drake’s ex-girlfriends, her appearance on stage is a playful, albeit pointed, addition to the night’s drama. The crowd erupts once more, amplifying the already electric atmosphere. With seamless precision, Kendrick transitions into the finale, performing” TV Off”, a track that delves into themes of personal reflection and liberation from the distractions of the media. For this part of the performance, Kendrick invites his longtime producer onto the stage, and the two share a moment of joyous camaraderie, dancing and celebrating together.

The energy on stage shifts, becoming lighter and more intimate, as Kendrick’s joy and authenticity take center stage. As “TV Off” comes to a close, the dancers swarm from opposite ends of the stage, rushing toward Kendrick in a whirlwind of motion, a chaotic visual metaphor for the tumultuous times in which they live. As they form a single line behind him, they execute a brief but powerful choreography, only to break back into their militant formations, walking steadily toward the edges of the stage, symbolizing yet again both unity and separation. Kendrick, with a cunning smile, raps his final lyrics directly to the camera, holding the audience’s gaze one last time.

Halftime Show or Cultural Reckoning?

In a dramatic flourish, the lights on stage snap off, plunging the stadium into darkness and signalling the end of one of the most provocative, ambitious halftime performances in Super Bowl history. Kendrick Lamar has once again used his platform to challenge, confront and make an indelible statement on the state of America, all while delivering an unforgettable spectacle. With Kendrick’s set being the most watched Super Bowl halftime show of all time—boasting 133.5 million viewers, the message is clear: this was more than just a performance—it was a cultural event.

For more on the beef between Kendrick Lamar and Drake, click here.