Analyzing Kendrick Lamar’s 2025 Super Bowl Halftime Show

The Super Bowl halftime show has long been a spectacle of opulence, celebrity, and commercial appeal. But this year, Kendrick Lamar turned the stage into something else entirely—a battleground of symbolism, cultural commentary, and raw defiance. Viewers were left gagged as Samuel L. Jackson, embodying a satirical Uncle Sam, set the tone for what would be an unforgettable performance. Before the camera panned to one of the four platforms designed to resemble the iconic PlayStation controller button, Jackson delivered a strong introduction, calling it "the great American game." But Lamar made it clear: This wasn’t just a game. It was survival.

Seated atop a sleek black 1987 Buick GNX, Lamar opened with a tease of an unreleased track, known to his fans as "Bodies." The moment was charged, made even more powerful by a crew of dancers—dressed in red, white, and blue jumpsuits representing the American flag—emerging from the vehicle like a revolution about to erupt. "The revolution is about to be televised. You picked the right time but the wrong guy," Lamar declared, an unmistakable nod to the protest poetry of the 1970s.

As the energy surged, Lamar transitioned into "Squabble Up" from his latest album GNX. But before the momentum could build further, Jackson’s Uncle Sam interrupted, dismissing the music as "too loud, too reckless, too ghetto." This abrupt halt underscored a deeper narrative—one of control, censorship, and the ongoing battle over Black expression in mainstream spaces.

Undeterred, Lamar, dressed in a custom "Gloria" motorsport jacket and flared jeans, stood at the center of a dancer formation mimicking the American flag—except this flag was split in two, a visual representation of the nation's division following the recent election of Donald Trump. The performance progressed as he powered through hits like "DNA," "HUMBLE," "Euphoria," and "Peekaboo." The scene shifted to a longer stage resembling a prison yard illuminated by towering light posts, reinforcing themes of systemic oppression. Meanwhile, Lamar continued to tease the audience with sound clips of his Grammy-winning diss track "Not Like Us," aimed squarely at rival rapper Drake.

Then came the moment that had social media buzzing. "I want to perform their favorite song, but you know they love to sue," Lamar said, referencing an ongoing lawsuit against his label, Universal Music Group, which alleges that "Not Like Us" harmed Drake’s reputation. Instead, he brought out R&B star SZA for an entrancing performance of "Luther" and "All the Stars," offering a momentary shift before diving back into the fire.

Jackson’s Uncle Sam reappeared, applauding Lamar for finally delivering "what America wants." But Lamar wasn’t playing into expectations. With a Cheshire-like grin, he locked eyes with the camera and delivered the line heard around the world: "Hey Drake." The stadium erupted.

With lines like "Forty acres and a mule, this is bigger than the music," Lamar made it clear—his performance wasn’t just entertainment; it was a statement. For the grand finale, he invited longtime collaborator Mustard to the stage for "TV Off," ending the set with a stark call to action: "Turn the TV off." The message? Disconnect from corporate media and think critically.

The performance shattered records, drawing an unprecedented 133.5 million viewers. Yet, the media's post-show analysis fixated less on Lamar’s artistry and more on the controversy, with critics calling his set "unintelligible" and his jabs at Drake "petty." Discussions erupted over one performer who was not pictured on TV but captured in a video off screen by a bystander, waving a Palestinian flag that had Sudan and Gaza written on it. But those critiques missed the point. Lamar was never performing for mass approval, but for those willing to listen. 

Through layered symbolism—the fragmented American flag, Jackson’s satirical Uncle Sam, the PlayStation-inspired stage, and the historical echoes embedded in "Not Like Us"—Lamar wove a narrative meant for a discerning audience. The polarizing response to his show only reinforced the divisions he sought to highlight.

For a rapper with 20 Grammy awards and a Pulitzer Prize, depth and nuance are expected. But Lamar’s Super Bowl performance wasn’t just about artistry; it was a challenge. A challenge for America to reckon with itself. And for those who truly heard him, the message was crystal clear.