In early October, Billboard announced changes to its charting rubric. By the week of October 27, hip-hop would be knocked out of any top 40 placements, a first since the early 1990.
Thank. God.
I had had enough of what was charting for hip-hop. In the 2020s, rappers were caricatures of what mainstream media and Twitch viewers asked of them: nothing. There were spurts of authenticity and momentum, but there were too many interlopers like Tommy Richman climbing the charts without bringing the genre’s ingredients to the table. The state of hip-hop was already questionable around her 50th birthday, with a lot of people wondering– who would take the crown and further the genre? Female rappers charted too, but misogynoirs wouldn’t embrace Megan Thee Stallion, Latto and Monaleo who had been on their restrictive streaks. We had strayed away from hip-hop’s founding principals of community, lyricism, and purpose…
Everyone atop the game had been there for years, two decades even, with Kanye West, Kendrick Lamar, and Tyler, the Creator beefing their resumes up without passing the baton to a new generation of leaders.
Then J. Cole and Drake released “First Person Shooter.” Then Kendrick dropped his verse on “Like That.” And then?
We spent Summer ‘24 watching Kendrick relieve Drake of his industry duties of holding hip-hop hostage with his dull, repetitive, unevolved, apathetic dating themes, spit-swapping with artists for their accents, and avoiding the inevitable of what adulthood, and art, are all about: getting better. Improving.
At that time, Drake’s latest projects “For All the Dogs” and “Her Loss” with 21 Savage sounded like the lens of a manboy’s thoughts on love, relationships, and money’s allure. Drake had been on a 11-year run, but substance was missing. And that’s why their beef felt like a battle for the soul of hip-hop.
Seeing Kendrick smoke Drake was a moment for the ages, but it was the strategy of leaning on traditional wits to do so. He’s rapping on beats from Mustard, the main orchestrator of the West Coast’s current sound since the 2010s. Kendrick’s diss tracks all have three verses or more. His strategy to flawless victory meant showcasing one of hip-hop’s strongest qualities: regionality. As Kendrick’s seventh studio album “GNX” turns one on November 22, the album course corrected a dark identity crisis we enabled and trekked throughout the early 2020s. He has proven that hip-hop isn’t in a new era, but returning to its roots of regional sound and niche cultural presentation.
Why Regionality?
On October 25, Verzuz returned for a Southern duel between Cash Money Records and No Limit Records. Both groups are New Orleans based.
According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, regionalism is defined as features, expressions, pronunciations, or customs that are characteristic of a geographic area. So…culture. Regionality is culture.
First, let’s take a look at the regional hodgepodges that primed us for “GNX.” The Pop Out welcomed California acts old and new to Kendrick’s victory lap on Juneteenth. I cackled seeing Steve Lacy’s aligned chakra ass come out and perform, and then the alt Black folks won again with a short appearance from Tyler. Then YG?
But, before The Pop Out, Verzuz was the biggest indicator of regionality’s importance to hip-hop. Opponents repped different regions and cities: Scott Storch (Philadelphia) vs. Mannie Fresh (New Orleans), RZA (New York) vs. DJ Premiere (Houston), DMX (New York) vs. Snoop Dogg (California). By its second edition, Swizz Beats and Timbaland recognized it then flipped it inward for hometown battles: Too $hort vs. E-40, Gucci Mane vs. Young Jeezy, and The LOX vs. DipSet (Why the fuck would you say The LOX ain’t got shit for the ladies?!) Even the most recent Verzuz was between New Orleans’ legendary rap groups Cash Money Records and No Limit Records.
We hadn’t seen that outright show of regional supremacy since the 1995 Source Awards with dual displays of Suge Knight dissing Bad Boy Records and Outkast winning Best Rap Group claiming the South had something to say. Nearly 30 years later and Kendrick had niggas up there with BOMPTON full back tats. Hang it in the Louvre.
And, if The Pop Out was a call to arms, “GNX” is what the war room sounds like.
Features do include familiar names like pop princess SZA or Roddy Ricch, but it’s definitely the newer, regional rappers that steal spotlights. Dody6 sweeps through “hey now” and Young Threat’s creepy whispers close out the album’s titular song to evoke a spine chill that is icing on the cake. Kendrick channels his bloodlust and narratives of the dark gang world he tries to resist throughout his discography. If Pimp a Butterfly is a hard look into survivor’s remorse, Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers is a sonic therapy journal. So it is only right that “GNX” invites Kendrick’s vindictive shadow side to roam free with fellow marauders, as he addresses inner turmoil with his guilty pleasure for destruction.
“GNX’s” curation is an exhibition that shows the West Coast’s offering and diverse acts. Through the magnetic synths we hear in “dodger blue” and the Tupac-inspired lyrics of “reincarnated,” Kendrick pulls together eras (and areas) of West Coast Rap that have always felt like a coastal call and response. And, as a DJ, I love how complementary “GNX” is to West Coast classics. I’d like to argue that you could hear The Pack’s hyphy sound glide on “squabble up,” or even imagine how good “peekaboo” would be if Too $hort added a verse. Kendrick understands that he is not only paying homage to West Coast rap, he argues his own case of dominance while fortifying a path for California’s bubbling artists to walk through the door. It’s a well done follow-up since his last West Coast rally for the 2017 Black Panther album soundtrack with standout works like Ab-Soul and Anderson .Paak’s “Bloody Waters” or The Bay’s SOB x RBE’s “Paramedic!”
Others Recognize Regionality’s Return
The Clipse’s “Let God Sort Em Out” being the biggest album since GNX’s release comes at no surprise. Clipse’s representation of hip-hop’s regional age felt like the right sound to hear after the smoke cleared. Hip-hop had chosen sides, a return really.
And though Clipse doesn’t bring a “Virginia-esque” sound to their latest project Let God Sort ‘Em Out, their decision to return through a Pharrell-produced project evokes the same excellence they cemented in the 2000s.
Malice’s return was one hell of a Homecoming. No 16 was wasted. The trio of Virginians did a phenomenal job highlighting the East Coast’s offerings through features like Syracuse-based Stove God Cooks or even Philly’s Ab-Liva. And they do not shy away from how Virginia, and any drug travels throughout the East Coast, encapsulates their storytelling and soul samples.
Regionality’s reappearance includes Metro Boomin’s “A Futuristic Summa” album, which took us back to Atlanta’s golden age of their bass-heavy sound, church organs popularized by legendary producer Zaytoven, and early trap melodies by rappers like Gucci Mane and Future. New ATLiens like YKNIECE and Breskii made strong cases as the new class of Atlanta’s rap royalty while legends like Young Dro, Travis Porter and Rocko returned to paint a thorough portrait of Atlanta’s consistent regional contributions to hip-hop. (Which, in my opinion, have been stronger than the West Coast. West Coast don’t have a Migos, who partly returned as Quavo ripped through “Drip BBQ” to open up disc 2 of “A Futuristic Summa).”
While spending time in Atlanta, local music hub Hood Affairs interviews Metro Boomin about his intentions of A Futuristic Summa being a sonic tribute to the city.
Unmoved listeners took to social media, displeased with Metro stepping away from modern sound he’s orchestrated with the likes of 21 Savage, Future, and Young Thug.
But what was Metro’s goal with the album?
“Everyone on the tape are people that I was fans of in high school,” Metro told Hood Affairs in September 2025. “I just wanted to bring back a fun feeling to music. I feel like it’s been very dark. We need fun music again, we had fun growing up.”
If Metro is really 32, he graduated no later than 2007 which is where we see the rise of Atlanta-based rappers like T.I., Shawty Lo and Young Jeezy.
By “fun” we can guesstimate Metro’s definition includes the countless “Crank Dat” songs that were released at that time while also acknowledging regional bops like Whoop Rico that took the Internet by storm too. (Beat his ass!)
Metro’s inclusion of female rappers is not lost on me either, as it likely paid homage to Atlanta groups like Vistoso Bosses and Cherish who penned teen bops through upbeat blends of R&B and bubblegum pop. Any unappreciations for “A Futuristic Summa” embrace willful ignorance of Atlanta’s 20-year run of absolute domination.
Other indications of regional hip-hop’s resurgence were in the form of Brooklyn’s Joey Bada$$ orchestrating a few cyphers to reclaim New York’s stance as hip-hop headquarters. They were a few diss tracks about West Coast’s return to the helm, including Joey’s cyphers against quiet giants like Carson native Ab-Soul (which, as a TDE stan, I think is a horrible idea for any rapper).
But even in that tug-of-war, Joey’s case rests on the basis that hip-hop’s a competitive sport, something we saw pushback about during Kendrick’s initial responses to Drake. The idea that rappers should be “cool” as they vie for a coveted crown has bled into hip-hop’s lukewarm temperature in the 2020s so far. Because peace wasn’t the answer for a post-“GNX” era. Whatever kind of hip-hop you produced or aligned with after the fact was indicative of your pulse of the genre’s return to regional offerings.
In Conclusion: Retire Your Favorite Purper
I am proud to see the shift Kendrick made stuck. In the words of our icon Beyoncé, microwave hip-hop took a toll on the way we view and receive quality projects. An six-song EP where no song is longer than three minutes. Mumbled up lyrics. Clout and followers are not a categories so The XXL Freestyles have been so ass lately. A 20-song project with only about four or five respectable tracks on them.
Short lived rapper and alleged Blackface cosplayer Ian freestyles as a member of this year’s XXL Freshman List. (Source: XXL)
But for now, let’s bask. Regional rap, random cyphers, and underground offerings becoming more frequent is a win as hip-hop’s pendulum has swung back to the traditional sounds and morals that made the genre. And, outside a Q&A in Harper’s Bazaar and an interview before the Super Bowl performance with Apple Music, Kendrick hasn’t said a word. The music is speaking for itself. The artist is allowing their art to be consumed and processed and spoken for, taking a life of its own. The Culture is his mouthpiece, the way hip-hop has always functioned. Earlier this year, “GNX” was crowned the highest-selling rap tour of all-time. (That. Fucking. Show. I went to see it in June and oh man. All the Stars live? I cried.)
A clip of Kendrick Lamar’s medley of m.A.A.d. City and ‘Sweet Love’ by Anita Baker during the GNX concert. (Source: Amber D. Dodd)
The album has garnered a record nine nominations at The 2026 Grammys and will likely battle Let God Sort Em Out for Album of the Year. Clipse is also up for four nominations. (I wouldn’t be mad about Tyler’s Chromokopia taking its deserved place though.) Whenever we lean on commercial and mainstream moments to determine things, we blur hip-hop’s original vision. That’s why we lost our way.
During hip-hop’s 50th, I wondered about something else we may not have wanted an answer to: Could she make it to 100? If so, who would lead that expedition? Two years later, projects like “GNX” and “A Futuristic Summa” give us a clear “yes” and clarify who and what will take us there.
And now we don’t have to worry about charting. An underground genre is returning into the shadows, turning its back on the system that once demonized it. The future of hip-hop still stands in its lifeblood of Black authenticity, regional diversity, and societal nonacceptance.
I taste victory.
About the Author: Amber D. Dodd
Amber D. Dodd (she/her) is an award-winning storyteller whose work explores Black America. Her literary offerings include journalism reporting, nonfiction short stories, and opinion essays. She owns her own media brand blaQplight. that produces content with a mission of curating authentic Black narratives that entertain, empower, and educate. Amber’s work can be found in Howard Magazine, The Associated Press, and The African-American Newspapers (The AFRO). In her free time she is DJ Ekletik and an avid thrifter and Latin scholar. Find more of her work at amberddodd.com.
I really enjoyed this piece, and I didn’t think about hip-hop going back to being regional again. I would love to see your thoughts on how women are dominating the culture (literally savings hip-hop) with making rap fun again 😂