Justin: Minnesota rappers dissect the history — and future — of diss tracks

The Philadelphia Eagles may have annihilated the Kansas City Chiefs. But the most impressive beatdown during Super Bowl LIX came courtesy of Kendrick Lamar, who used the spotlight to twist the dagger into the heart of rival Drake with the Grammy-winning song, “Not Like Us.”

That performance averaged 133.5 million viewers, making it the most-watched halftime show in Super Bowl history. But a lot of viewers had no idea what Lamar was spewing and why he would use such a high-profile gig to taunt one of the biggest hip-hop artists of all time.

Fortunately, a few of the Twin Cities best rappers were willing to offer a tutorial.

First, a little history. Dissing, the rap community’s term for insulting fellow artists in song, dates back to at least 1981, when the Fantastic Five took on Cold Crush in a lyrical battle that was hip-hop’s version of a heavyweight title bout. That was the same year Busy Bee and Kool Moe Dee started calling each other out on stage.

The real game changer came a decade later when Ice Cube released “No Vaseline,” a vicious swipe at his old band, N.W.A., and its manager.

“Kendrick could not have made ‘Not Like Us’ if there wasn’t ‘No Vaseline,’“ said Terrell X’avion, 50, who uses the stage name Carnage the Executioner, blasting that 1991 track in the basement of his Shoreview home last week. ”He was saying, ‘I’m not going to go halfway on this. I’m going to go Ice Cube on you.‘ “

“Not Like Us,” and Lamar’s even more vulgar track, “Meet the Grahams,” accuse Drake of pedophilia, sex trafficking and being an absent father.

Most rap battles don’t get this nasty. They’re usually polished versions of schoolyard taunts designed to let competitors know who’s king of the mountain.

“It’s funny. When Black artists start dissing to push our art, we get called animals,” X’avion said. “No, no, no. We live in America and it’s competitive. In order to get your due, you have to prove you’re better than the next person. Why should hip-hop be any different?”

Darius Romaine, who goes by Righteous Emcee, has engaged in a couple of local battles with peers that he respects. Rivalries bring out the best in him.

“You go to a different zone, in a good way,” said Romaine, 36, who listens to music with the passion of a gourmand relishing a dollop of caviar. “You know that something is on the line.”

In the case of Drake vs. Lamar, it has changed the genre’s hierarchy. When Lamar opens his latest tour on April 19 at U.S. Bank Stadium, it’ll most likely be as the most popular rapper on the planet. Drake, who once held that title, just canceled four shows in Australia and New Zealand.

“We enjoy it. It’s like watching a boxing match or a basketball game. Who’s going to win us over?” said Romaine, after describing a great diss track as one with a killer beat and lyrics wittier than “yo mama” jokes. “I think it’s a little more serious for the artist. Bragging rights are on the line. If you lose, it can halt an entire career.”

Dissing can also be a way of humbling artists who have gotten too big for their britches. That would seem to be the case with Drake.

“You sit so high on your mountain, you don’t see anyone else,” Romaine said. “You take it for granted.”

Minnesota’s most aggressive battler may be Zach Combs, who used to host the Loring Pasta Bar MC Battles, right around the time “8 Mile” hit theaters. He recently released a six-hour audio book peppered with tracks, stories and stand-ups that take shots at other local acts, most notably Rhymesayers, one of the most successful rap groups in the state’s history.

Rhymesayers have a tradition of ignoring disses, which Combs finds disappointing.

“It‘s probably good business, but from a fan perspective, it sucks,” said Combs, 47, who performs under the name Big Zach with the group Kanser. “Minnesota has these passive-aggressive vibes.”

But X’Avion believes rap battles in the Twin Cities are counterproductive, even when they’re conducted without malice.

“We’re still trying to crack the code of being successful in Minnesota. Why would we hurt each other?” he said. “Anyone battling Minnesota rappers is stupid. What you should be doing is figuring out how to support each other.”

It’s not like rap battles are all the rage like they were 20 years ago. Younger artists are more likely to insult each other on social media than in recording studios. Perhaps that’s why veterans like X’avion are savoring the results of the heat of the Drake vs. Lamar feud — and its old-school contribution to an art form he loves.

“Because of the Super Bowl, rap is now on a different platform,” X’avion said. “People who would have probably never experienced an artist like Lamar have been exposed to the riches that rap has to offer.”