Andrew Schulz Not even Trying to React

Let’s dial this roast up. Kendrick Lamar, a lyrical genius in his own right, suddenly stepping into the ring to defend black women against a comedian?

Bro, the black women of the world didn’t send you that invitation.

They’ve been holding it down on their own since forever.

These are women who wrote books, led protests, dismantled entire systems of oppression—and Kendrick wants to ride in on his noble steed of misplaced outrage like a discount Don Quixote? Nah, son.

Let’s break it down. Kendrick sees Andrew Schulz (or any white comedian, take your pick) firing off jokes, and instead of recognizing comedy for what it is—a roast, a catharsis, a space where everything is fair game—he decides to make it personal. Here’s the thing about comedians, they don’t just spit bars; they spit fire while juggling chainsaws.

Andrew Schulz?

That man doesn’t even flinch when cancel culture knocks. He just doubles down with more jokes.

Kendrick, on the other hand, went full preacher mode. You know, the kind of vibe that makes you check your watch like, "Bro, is this the BET Awards or Sunday school?"

Comedy is built on taking uncomfortable truths and spinning them into something laughable. Instead of clapping back with wit or humor, Kendrick tried to play the moral high ground. Guess what? Comedians LIVE on that slippery low ground.

Here’s where it gets embarrassing. Kendrick, my guy, black women have been leading revolutions before you were spitting rhymes into your bathroom mirror. Harriet Tubman didn’t need a hype man. Sojourner Truth didn’t need someone ghostwriting "Ain’t I A Woman?" And Rosa Parks certainly wasn’t sitting there like,

"Dang, I wish Kendrick was here to pen me a verse while I fight for my seat."

Modern black women?

They’re CEOs, athletes, activists, and yes, comedians too.

Tiffany Haddish, anyone?

These queens aren’t waiting for Kendrick Lamar to step into the chat and "save" them. They’ve got receipts, credentials, and, most importantly, a voice.

Kendrick claiming the need to protect them feels less like empowerment and more like mansplaining wrapped in a poetic bow. Bro, sit down. They’ve got this.

The Art of Comedy: Why Kendrick Missed the Mark

Comedy isn’t supposed to be polite. It’s raw, unfiltered, and often uncomfortable. That’s why it works. Schulz isn’t afraid to poke the bear because that’s literally his job. And comedians like him don’t discriminate—they roast everyone.

Race, gender, religion—nothing’s sacred. You know what is sacred? Free speech and the right to laugh about how messy humanity is.

Instead of clapping back with bars that showed humor or nuance, Kendrick went for the outdated "defend the damsels" angle. You know who else does that? Villains in Disney movies.

Andrew Schulz didn’t even have to try to roast Kendrick—he just let the absurdity of Kendrick’s crusade speak for itself.

"When the ass starts talking, sometimes the only way to shut it up is for a big piece of meat (not necessarily beef) to plug that nonsense—then we can all enjoy some peace and quiet again."

Ok! Rappers are poets, but comedians are painters. Rappers give you rhythm and rhyme, but comedians give you a full-blown mural of absurdity, chaos, and hilarity.

So, when Kendrick stepped into Schulz’s world, it was like watching someone try to freestyle at a jazz concert—wrong place, wrong time.

And let’s not forget, comedians aren’t just "lyricists" without a beat. They’re social commentators, storytellers, and architects of humor.

You don’t battle a comedian with sanctimony. You battle them with humor, or you don’t battle them at all. Kendrick trying to moralize Schulz was like bringing a bucket of water to a flamethrower fight.

A Word to Kendrick

Here’s the thing, Kendrick: You’re a generational talent. Your words inspire millions. But maybe let black women do what they’ve been doing since the dawn of time—be brilliant, bold, and unbothered. You’re not their spokesperson. They didn’t vote you in. And as for comedians like Schulz? They’ve been cracking jokes at the expense of everyone. It’s not personal; it’s comedy.

The next time you feel like jumping in, Kendrick, remember this: women are articulate. Women are powerful. And comedians?

Comedians are untouchable.

If you really want to clap back, grab a mic, make it funny, and maybe—just maybe—stick to what you’re actually good at.