Hip hop’s pantheon rumbles

J. Cole's changing role in the battle for pre-eminence with Drake and Lamar.

Nyasha Chiketsani

Nyasha graduated from Cardiff University where he studied media, journalism and culture. He makes both hip hop and spoken word content.

Cole, Lamar and Drake.

Spirituality and religion are inseparable from American hip hop culture. Recent studies have shown that African Americans, the pioneers of hip hop culture, are more likely to be religious than any other ethnic group in America. As such, hip hop lyrics are often littered with allusions to both organised religion and more abstract spirituality. Consider Kanye West’s infamous 2004 record Jesus Walks, a song in which the Chicago native overtly professes faith in Jesus of Nazareth and pleads for his protection as he traverses through the adverse socio-economic terrain that is Black America.

Or take two of hip hop's most successful and influential artists today, friends turned enemies: J. Cole and Kendrick Lamar. As recently as his second last project, The Off Season, Cole reveals an ongoing journey he finds himself on, stating:

I dibble-dabble in a few religions

My homie constantly telling me ’bout Quran, puttin’ me on

I read a few pages and recognize the wisdom in it

But I ain’t got the discipline for stickin’ with it

Cole’s belief in some form of a deity is well-documented throughout his music. Religion, though often critiqued, serves as a continual trope in his discography. Consider his pseudo-messianic perspective on the track Want You To Fly, where he claims that:

God is real and he usin’ me for a bigger purpose…

Sometimes I think that these verses can help a person

Way more than the ones they readin’ in churches on days of worship

No disrespect to the Lord and Savior, that ain’t just ego

I just observe that them words no longer relate to people

‘Cause modern times be flooded with dollar signs

And social media stuntin’, my n****s just wanna shine

They frame of mind so far removed from the days and times

Of Nazareth

His counterpart, Lamar, is not far behind in terms of religious motifs and themes. His spiritual journey, like Cole’s, is complex and multi-layered. Early in his career, one could assume that Lamar was an all-out Christian due to lyrics on songs such as His Pain, within which the Compton artist questions why God keeps on blessing him amid his mistakes and transgressions. Furthermore, his debut album good kid, m.A.A.d city was flooded with religious overtones, the culmination being the 12-minute track Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst where Kendrick and his affiliates confess their need for a Saviour, namely Jesus of Nazareth. However, as alluded to earlier, Kendrick’s spiritual journey is not as straightforward as that song would make it seem.

Though Christian virtues such as humility, altruism and charity still run through songs such as How Much A Dollar Cost, Kendrick has often been drawn to other religions, including Black Hebrew Israelism. Kendrick’s current position is uncertain, he seems to have landed on a form of religious syncretism. In his most recent album, Mr Morale and The Big Steppers, he confesses to still being a Christian “but just not today” and openly confesses to “praying to the trees”.

Both artists, surveying their immense influence across the hip hop community, both locally and globally, have developed something of a Saviour complex as they seek to promote peace and unity. Despite Cole and Lamar’s prominent themes of emotional healing and social consciousness, the two still possess a competitive edge. Cole, on the hit single First Person Shooter on Drake’s For All The Dogs album stated

Love when they argue the hardest MC

Is it K-Dot? Is it Aubrey? Or me? We the big three like we started a league

This seemed to be a profound moment of acknowledgement and respect for the three rappers on contemporary hip hop’s pantheon (J Cole, Kendrick Lamar and Drake). However, the collaboration between J. Cole and Drake clearly didn’t sit well with the Compton Cowboy, Kendrick Lamar. This seemingly uncontroversial statement triggered a response Lamar, who declared:

“Motherf**k the ‘Big 3’, *n***a it’s just Big Me”

Lamar’s verse instantly became the talk of the town as Lamar had returned from his hiatus in order to take aim at his competition. And thus, Cole’s observation from his 2019 release Middle Child that “They act like two legends cannot coexist” has proved to be true.

However, Cole, perhaps unknowingly, has showcased the character of the Christian God in choosing to forego his offence and make peace with his brother.

So, what was Cole to do in this scenario?

For the Fayetteville Emcee, it seemed like a catch-22 of sorts; on the one hand, if he chose to retaliate that could cost him a friendship (with Lamar) that spanned over a decade. However, if Cole, choosing to maintain the peace, chose to turn the other cheek, his reputation as a preeminent emcee would be brought into question.

Cole, competitive as they come, refused to be outdone and replied to his friend-turned-foe, Kendrick Lamar, on a since deleted track called 7 Minute Drill. Cole scrutinised Lamar’s most recent album Mr Morale And The Big Steppers as well as his critically acclaimed 2015 release To Pimp A Butterfly. However, within a few days of the retaliation, J.Cole made a public apology to Lamar and his fans.

Cue the trolling, the confusion and the memes.

After years of working to cement his position as an elite hip hop artist, Cole’s status as a top emcee was now being questioned. The discourse surrounding Cole quickly turned sour, for the many hip hop fans who rejoiced over the return of parity and competition to the genre, this seemed to be a cop-out by Cole. However, Cole, perhaps unknowingly, has showcased the character of the Christian God in choosing to forego his offence and make peace with his brother.

But when he began to display forgiveness and humility? That became too much for the hip hop audience to stomach.

When Kendrick Lamar subsequently began to battle the third member of hip hop's Big Three, Drake, many fans applauded Cole for staying out of the conflict.

When Cole made his public apology to Lamar, his actions more resembled those of a Gandhi, Martin Luther King or, dare I say, Jesus, than a hip hop megastar. When the opportunity for lyrical bloodshed presented itself, Cole admittedly indulged, yet quickly retracted and repented. His actions strikingly resemble the teachings of Jesus, who advocated for radical reconciliation with one’s enemies.

It seems as though hip hop was content, and even supportive, of Cole’s afore-mentioned saviour complex... but only to a certain point. Giving to the poor? Fine. Spreading positivity and uplifting the oppressed? Fine. But when he began to display forgiveness and humility? That became too much for the hip hop audience to stomach.

In Jesus’ day, it was widely hoped that a Jewish messiah arrive in the form of a military warrior, who would destroy the oppressive Roman Empire. Therefore, when Jesus of Nazareth spoke of forgiveness, love for enemies and humility, this was difficult for his audience to accept. Instead, he taught and demonstrated a different path: one where the merciful will be shown mercy.

And so, perhaps there are similarities between Jesus’ story and the scenario Cole finds himself in.

Both audiences desired kings who sought bloodshed, vengeance and dominance. But, instead, both displayed love, peace and humility. It’s easy to choose the former but it’s pricey to choose the latter.

Some ponder the existence of God and His activity in the world today and with valid and noble reasons. However, what if God’s actions and character are sometimes mediated through unsuspecting people. What if God is condescending? Not in the sense that He belittles us or speaks patronisingly to us but rather gently descends to our level and communicates in ways that we can comprehend through people that we can relate to? What if God is more human than we sometimes think? Again, not in the sense that He’s susceptible to mistakes and error like us but more so in the sense that He knows what it’s like to experience pain and injustice, joy and relief and everything that comprises the human experience? Maybe through the medium of hip hop, a culture birthed out of poverty, vocational insecurity and social instability God has spoken to us? After all, it would be much like the God of the Christian Bible who chose not to enter the world as an infant in a royal family but rather choose the ghetto of Nazareth as His humble abode. Maybe, just maybe, this hip hop feud and Jermaine Cole’s withdrawal from it was a microphone through which God chose to speak and communicate His character to an onlooking world.

Article

Attention

Culture

Digital

22 April 2025

5 min read

Let me level-up about playing games on my phone

Like all art, there's no standard for 'good', but good art doesn’t leave you puzzling over how you wasted an hour.

Mark Gilbert

Mark is a research mathematician who writes on ethics, human identity and the nature of intelligence.

Onur Binay on Unsplash.

Earlier this year I got a bit too into a mobile phone game. In the game, I was master and controller of a small virtual grid of assorted shiny objects. By the flick of my finger on the screen, I’d swap the objects to try to match groups together. If I did this in the right way, then the matching objects would merge into shinier ones which would help me win the game. I’d want to know what the next shiny thing would be and how I could use it to beat the next level.

I first started playing on my commute to work – usually I like to read or write and listen to music and sometimes to catch up on emails – but on that day I felt too tired for any of that. The puzzles started easy but got gradually harder. They were challenging enough to occupy the mind, but never felt too taxing, and the satisfaction-hit from each small win along with the visuals and sound-effects made me really want to keep playing. On the train home, it felt easier to just open the app and play a few levels than do anything else. I’d start the journey by telling myself I’d do a few levels and would do something else, but I’d easily spend the best part of the journey rearranging shiny objects.

I knew this wasn’t ideal. I’ve come to see my commutes as a rare unfilled moment, each a scrap of time, a space to read and think, and I was filling this gift with a pixellated dopamine hit. I’d try to stop and bargain with myself – setting a limit of say five levels per journey, but knowing this to be an arbitrary number, I’d blow straight through it. There are other empty moments, waiting for the bath to run or once the children are in bed, but these other scraps are empty only in appearance, and I started to play in these too.

My phone has a ‘sleep mode’ which tries to mitigate the by now well-documented negative effects of phone use on sleeping – lower sleep quality, duration and interference with circadian rhythms. In sleep mode, you choose a time – after this the colours of your phone will be replaced by black and grey. I started using this feature, thinking that at least if I dulled the bright colours to greys then I’d take the enjoyment out of playing and it’d be harder to tell the shiny squares apart. It was a good try, but it didn’t work. I learnt to tell the grey objects apart, and played on.

Mainly, what I'm not doing when I’m glued to my phone is engaging with life.

You’ve heard it before, but our devices are not that good for us – excessive smartphone use fuels depression, anxiety and insomnia, and the average teenager spends seven to eight hours a day in front of a screen. Smartphones are closely related to social media - a recent study found one in six adolescent girls showed signs of social media addiction. Smartphone use has become a well-worn topic with a familiar set of talking points: How lucky we are to have all the world’s knowledge in our pocket; how bad we should all feel about being so distracted; how smug we can feel about the fools stuck to their phones. These discussion points aren't new - many of the concerns about smartphones and screen-time started decades earlier in response to TV and video games.

These concerns are certainly valid, but I find it easier to consider what some of my smartphone habits are stopping me from doing. I'm not sure I'd advocate that we all stop using smartphones - having easy access to the Internet is a huge convenience, but I do pause to think about what I'm not spending time doing when I obsessively scroll or click. I'm also not convinced that all mobile games or even all social media use is bad. Computer games can be entertaining and thought provoking. Like all art, there's no globally agreed standard about what's good, but good art doesn’t leave you puzzling over how you wasted an hour. What differentiates social media and certain phone games is their business model – your time and attention is their revenue stream.

Mainly, what I'm not doing when I’m glued to my phone is engaging with life. If I put the phone down, I could be more attentive to the people I'm with – be able to listen to all the subtle ways we tell each other how we are – in short, I could be more fully present. I could read books, and I could read whole magazine articles or news stories on my phone, actually stopping to read rather than scrolling from headline to headline. Or I could do nothing and just be, undisturbed. If I’m commuting, I could enjoy the scenery or just let my mind wander. And I can remember that even in the quietest moments I'm not alone - God is always alongside us, and we can always spend time and speak to Him in prayer. Even for a few short moments to lift up the joys and troubles of the day.

“Well”, you may say, “That's all very nice hearing about these possibilities I could enjoy if I clawed back time from social media and freemium games. But how do I actually do it!?” Most of the answers I’ve found to this involve either stopping the habit completely – deleting the app or even not having a smartphone, or else they involve enforced periods away. Some have found that a digital detox of several days or weeks has helped to reset their relationship with tech, others set fixed times in their day when they can and can’t use their devices or certain apps, and some observe a “digital sabbath” where they intentionally avoid or reduce technology use for a full day each week.

As for me, my only way out was to delete the shiny object game, losing all record of all 1,500 completed levels. Given that I rejected my own help by outsmarting “night mode”, I doubt moderation would have helped. Unsettlingly, my fingers and part of mind really seemed to miss it. As I unlocked my phone, I’d feel a tinge of absence, as though checking my emails or messages didn’t have the same grip as matching colourful blocks

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