Can rap beef exist when no one agrees on what's being fought for?

In 2016, then-President Barack Obama weighed in on an issue of utmost national importance: Who would win in a rap battle between Kendrick Lamar and Drake? "Gotta go with Kendrick," he said. "I think Drake is an outstanding entertainer, but Kendrick, his lyrics ..." It was pretty clear what distance he was covering between "entertainer" and "lyricist"; it's one that has been subject to debate since hip-hop's earliest days. But just as fascinating, to me, is the idea of asking the commander-in-chief such a question in the first place: not simply pitting the two divergent stars against each other in the critical imagination, but supposing that any such showdown could be conclusive — that it could say something substantial about the artists' standing — when even the framing of Obama's answer seems to be partitioning them.

Such a battle may yet come to fruition thanks to Kendrick Lamar, who recently made a surprise appearance on Future and Metro Boomin's "" to take aim at Drake and the other peer with whom they have formed the defining rap triumvirate of the last decade, . Kendrick, no stranger to putting others on notice, made plain his distaste for the duo collaborating and asserting their primacy on the chart-topping 2023 single "," and decided to shoot back. On Friday, only a few weeks," from a surprise album called . His fire didn't even last the weekend: During a set at his Dreamville festival, , calling it "the lamest s*** I ever did." "I felt conflicted 'cause I'm like, bruh, I know I don't really feel no way," he continued, "but the world wanna see blood" — in essence admitting he was going through the motions of a ritual he does not believe in.