Kendrick Lamar: To Pimp A Butterfly REVIEW

The repugnant album cover tells you all you need to know about its contents.

A mob of jeering, half-naked savages, clutching cash and waving alcohol, violently occupying the lawn of the White House, stomping on the personification of law and order in an aggressive act of defiance against civilization.

In a word, the cover captures the essence of niggers.

And that’s what the album is about too – being a nigger. Desecrating order and beauty. Inciting and glorifying violence. Obsessing over sexuality and reproductive organs. Gleefully tearing down all tenets of civilization, then blaming the white man for the black community’s desolation and nihilism. Wallowing in victimization.

Such an album cover should provoke a visceral reaction of disgust in anyone that doesn’t want to go back to the stone age.

Consider how utterly unacceptable it would be for a white musician to feature a gang of white men gleefully killing a black man as their album cover.

It would incite an uproar.

The reverse barely registers, so ubiquitous and accepted is black violence.

White fans of this are clueless. A white boy having this in his record collection is like a Jew putting a Nazi flag up in their room. It is an incitement to violence. It is stochastic terrorism.

Kendrick would slit your throat if he had the chance, and drink the blood like a tribal warlord.

To Pimp A Butterfly isn’t the music of an oppressed artist-poet speaking out against the powers-that-be to liberate his community; it’s the sound of a resentful, sulking, rage-filled nigger who fantasizes daily about spilling the blood of his white neighbors.

It’s the sound of someone who smiles when he reads the headline that another white woman was raped and killed by his brothas.

It’s the sound of someone who would spit in the drink of the white customers he was serving.

It’s the sound of someone who shouldn’t be allowed access to firearms.

It’s the sound of someone who needs therapy.

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