But look closer. Beneath the surface, this is a match made in purgatory. Here is why Kendrick Lamar is the only artist alive who could truly own that song—and what it would sound like.

For a decade, Kendrick performed the role of the angry, righteous prophet. That prophet? A character he used to know. The real Kendrick—the scared, wounded boy—had been buried under the weight of the Pulitzer.

In Kendrick’s world, or Whitney (his late fiancée) deliver that rebuttal. On Mr. Morale , the track “Mother I Sober” reveals the lie at the center of his trauma. He admits he was sexually abused as a child. He had hidden this fact—not just from the world, but from himself.

This is the exact psychological space Kendrick Lamar occupies in his darkest moments. On Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers , particularly on tracks like “Father Time” or “We Cry Together,” Lamar isn’t just breaking up with a lover. He is breaking up with his coping mechanisms. He is breaking up with the toxic masculinity passed down by his father. He is breaking up with the savior complex of being “the greatest rapper alive.”