From Diss Track to Super Bowl: The Legacy of “Not Like Us” One Year Later
- Fck Yaya
- May 4
- 1 min read
Dear Not Like Us,
You were the sound of sneakers krumpin’ on LA streets.
A Compton cookout where the smoke rose from both barbecue and riots.
Confetti rained down to “Mustard on the beat, hoe.”
A victory parade that didn’t wait for permission.
The battle was over—
And you were at the block party after the burial.
The eulogy got spun in the club.
And we danced to it.
Laughed to it.
C-walked across the grave to it.
The Boogeyman dropped the mask.
And Kendrick?
He started two-steppin'.
West Coast bounce,
shoulders loose like victory been livin’ in his blood.
A diss so potent, so precise,
So unforgiving—
Drake’s only clapback
was to call his lawyer,
Since he couldn’t call the cops.
Not Like Us
wasn’t just a track—
It was a West Coast anthem.
An American anthem.
Chanted like a ritual:
“They not like us, they not like us...”
"A minoooooooorrrrr."
“Certified Lover Boy... Certified Pedophiles.”
You made sure the culture knew:
This wasn’t a tie.
This wasn’t close.
This was Kendrick moonwalking through the ashes,
telling the world—
“This is what domination sounds like.”
You won 5 Grammys.
You cracked Super Bowl speakers wide open.
Even the silence of the opps felt like applause.
Because what do you do
After someone beats you
At your own game,
Turns you into a parody,
And makes your legacy feel like a joke?
But it’s too late.
History already pressed repeat.
And the West?
We’re outside. Forever.
Thank you,
The Culture🖤
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