Kendrick Lamar Turns Toronto Against Drake with “Not Like Us”

Toronto, often described as a cultural melting pot and the heartbeat of Canadian entertainment, found itself at the epicenter of an unexpected musical rebellion. On June 12, the city’s unwavering pride for its hometown hero, Drake, cracked at the seams. The occasion? Kendrick Lamar’s explosive live performance of his now-iconic diss track, “Not Like Us.” The outcome? A city caught in the crossfire of a rap feud decades in the making — with surprising allegiances.

On that cool Thursday night, the crowd in Canada’s largest city — Drake’s own backyard — erupted, not in defense of their beloved son, but in collective voice, rapping along to Kendrick’s most venomous lyrics. What was supposed to be Kendrick performing in enemy territory quickly transformed into an exclamation point in one of hip-hop’s most compelling beefs of the decade.

Performing “Not Like Us” in Toronto was not just a bold move; it was strategic psychological warfare. Kendrick Lamar, known for his surgical lyrical precision and no-nonsense persona, essentially walked into the lion’s den and came out wearing the mane. As he spat bars that called Drake a “colonizer” and even more inflammatory names, the crowd didn’t recoil in discomfort — they chanted along.

The city that Drake put on the map, the city that’s been name-dropped in countless OVO anthems, suddenly didn’t seem so loyal. As the crowd shouted back the words with a mix of excitement and defiance, the moment transcended a diss track. It became cultural commentary. In that instant, Kendrick wasn’t just a rapper dissing another rapper — he became a voice of reckoning.

To grasp the depth of what unfolded in Toronto, one must understand the origins of the Drake-Kendrick conflict. This isn’t a scuffle that emerged overnight. The seeds of tension were planted more than a decade ago in 2013, when Kendrick dropped a verse that shook the genre to its core.

On Big Sean’s track “Control,” Kendrick famously called out a list of his contemporaries by name — including Drake. While the shoutout wasn’t overtly hostile, it laid the groundwork for a rivalry based on ambition, respect, and the desire for dominance. From that moment, fans and critics alike began tracking every subtle dig, every veiled lyric, every passive-aggressive interview between the two.

For years, the feud was mostly cold — chilly glances in interviews, quiet competitive energy on tracks, subliminally hidden in verses. But that changed dramatically in 2024, when what had been a simmering rivalry erupted into an all-out lyrical war.

In spring 2024, Kendrick and Drake finally aired it all out. No more metaphors. No more polite disses wrapped in metaphysical bars. Over the span of a few short weeks, both artists released a torrent of diss tracks — nine in total — that pulled no punches. These songs tackled issues like parental neglect, accusations of abuse, and deeply personal matters that most wouldn’t dare put to a beat.

Kendrick’s tracks, particularly “Euphoria,” “Meet the Grahams,” and ultimately “Not Like Us,” were sharp, poetic, and unrelenting. Drake responded in kind with tracks like “Family Matters” and “The Heart Part 6.” But public perception began to lean in Kendrick’s favor. Why? His lyrics didn’t just attack — they exposed. They told stories. They painted vivid, if controversial, pictures of who Drake might really be behind the curated social media posts and catchy hooks.

“Not Like Us” stood out immediately. It was catchy, venomous, and infectious. It became the kind of song you couldn’t help but move to — even if its lyrics were burning someone alive.

With “Not Like Us,” Kendrick didn’t just write a diss track; he created a movement. The song became a streaming juggernaut, racking up millions of plays. It transcended the confines of hip-hop and became a cultural moment. Social media lit up with reaction videos. Memes flooded the timeline. Celebrities posted cryptic support. And then there were the dance challenges, remixes, and endless TikToks — all helping to propel the song beyond the realm of battle rap and into the mainstream.

It’s easy to forget in all the noise just how good the song is musically. Produced by Mustard, the beat is bouncy, West Coast to its core, and impossible to sit still to. But underneath the rhythm is a scorched-earth manifesto — an indictment of everything Kendrick believes is wrong with Drake’s persona, empire, and perhaps even his character.

Lamar called Drake out for being a culture vulture, someone who profits off Black aesthetics while staying at a comfortable, marketable distance. He painted him as someone more concerned with brand deals and Billboard charts than substance or sincerity. And fans were listening — and apparently, agreeing.

This feud has never been just about two artists dissing each other. It’s become a vehicle for larger conversations — about authenticity, power, race, and the blurred lines between art and life. Kendrick has made it clear that his problem with Drake isn’t just personal — it’s ideological. It’s about who gets to be the voice of hip-hop in an era where clout and image often outweigh depth and truth.

“Not Like Us” became an anthem for people tired of the performative. In Kendrick’s view, Drake isn’t of the culture, he’s simply in it — benefiting from it, but not contributing meaningfully to its growth. Whether or not that’s entirely fair is up for debate, but clearly, the public is intrigued enough to make it a point of conversation.

The June 12 performance was just the latest evidence of Kendrick’s growing influence in this feud. To hear thousands of fans in Drake’s own city — people who likely grew up idolizing him — chant Kendrick’s lyrics word for word, was monumental. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a symbolic dethroning.

And Kendrick knew it. He soaked it in, his stage presence calm and confident. There was no gloating. No chest-thumping. Just precise execution — the same kind that’s defined his career.

What’s more astonishing is that this moment happened in a place that has historically been fiercely protective of its stars. Drake has long been a symbol of Toronto pride. His OVO brand, his investments in local real estate, his association with the Raptors — he’s more than a musician there. He’s an institution. And yet, for those few minutes during “Not Like Us,” Kendrick Lamar cracked that institution wide open.

In recent years, Drake has tried to maintain a delicate balance between vulnerability and bravado. He’s been praised for opening up about mental health, fatherhood, and fame. But Kendrick’s relentless lyrical attacks forced people to look more critically at the contradictions in Drake’s persona.

When Kendrick brought up allegations of grooming, manipulation, and privilege, it struck a nerve. Even if the claims were unproven or exaggerated, they hit at something people had been whispering about for years. The idea that Drake, for all his charm and chart dominance, might not be as “relatable” or authentic as he projects.

That doesn’t mean Drake’s career is over — far from it. He’s still one of the most commercially successful artists in the world. But the way he’s perceived has shifted. He’s no longer the untouchable golden boy. He’s vulnerable. And in hip-hop, perception is often everything.

In an age where many rappers lean into pop sounds and viral gimmicks, Kendrick Lamar remains a purist. He’s never chased trends. He rarely gives interviews. He drops albums when he wants to, not when the algorithm suggests he should. And he never, ever says more than he has to.

That mystique is part of what makes moments like the Toronto performance so powerful. Kendrick doesn’t need to scream. He doesn’t need to troll. He just shows up, delivers with clinical precision, and lets the art speak.

He may not be as omnipresent as Drake, but when Kendrick talks — or raps — people listen. And when he raps like he did on “Not Like Us,” the whole world responds.

The feud may eventually die down, as all feuds do. But what won’t fade is the cultural impact of this moment. Kendrick Lamar walked into Drake’s home turf and got the crowd to join him in tearing down the house. That’s not just a victory — it’s a legacy-defining moment.

What comes next is uncertain. Will Drake fire back with another diss? Will Kendrick double down? Or will both artists retreat and let the music speak over time?

No matter what happens, June 12 will be remembered as the night Kendrick Lamar shook Toronto to its core — and in doing so, shifted the power dynamics of hip-hop itself.