As Drake, Kendrick Lamar and more continue their high-profile beef, we run down the most inspired – and vicious – attacks in rap’s history

• ‘A lot of rich guys arguing’: inside the rap beef of the decade

Whether you view the beef that has consumed hip-hop’s upper echelons as a spicy addition to the genre or a dispiriting Trumpian exercise by grandstanding millionaires, it’s hard not to love the fire and venom of Lamar’s verse here , bashing J Cole and Drake.

Drake used AI to simulate the voice of the late rapper and have him chide Kendrick Lamar, which the estate calls a ‘flagrant violation’

The estate of the late Tupac Shakur has sent a cease and desist letter to Drake, following the release of a Drake track that uses an AI version of Shakur’s voice to lambast Kendrick Lamar.

As seen by Billboard , the letter instructs Drake to remove the track, Taylor Made Freestyle, within 24 hours, or face legal action.

Aleema Gray used British Library’s collection to assemble Beyond the Bassline exhibition about Black British music

Young cultural researchers need greater access to the UK’s rich archival resources so untold stories can be brought to light, according to the curator of an exhibition that documents five centuries of Black British music, from the Tudor court to grime.

Dr Aleema Gray has assembled Beyond the Bassline, an expansive tour through the past 500 years of Black British musical history, which is being hosted by the British Library – the exhibition pulls from its collection – and seeks to redefine the limits of what we consider Black British music.

Tributes paid to music producer who helped write TLC’s Waterfalls and worked on albums by OutKast and CeeLo Green

Rico Wade, one of the architects of Atlanta’s “dirty south” hip-hop sound, who co-produced albums by OutKast, Goodie Mob and CeeLo Green and who co-wrote TLC’s 1994 hit Waterfalls , has died. He was 52.

Atlanta mayor Andre Dickens paid tribute to Wade, saying he had “led in the creation of a hip-hop sound that has spanned decades and genres. Rico left an indelible mark on music and culture around the world and for that, the south will always have something to say.”

The headlines around the top hip-hop artists focuses on spats and feuds, and obscures the fact that so many are capitalists of genius

Did you hear the news? Rapper J Cole fell out with rapper Kendrick Lemar. Then he apologised . It made headlines all over the world and, for the uninitiated to the world of hip-hop beefs to fully understand it all, the BBC published an explainer .

You may have missed or ignored this, on the basis that you were paying attention to the real issues of that day, but I’m sorry, for this was legitimate news that day. For rappers – whether the hugely successful conscious kind, such as J Cole and Kendrick – or the wildly successful big hitters of the gangsta rap class – long ago graduated from being just rappers, just musicians. Those at the top of the game are creative giants, the poster children for modern commercial capitalism.

Fuelled by music fandom and social media, young British people’s slang is evolving to include words with pidgin, patois and Arabic roots – even where strong regional English dialects exist

There’s a video format spreading on TikTok. Recorded in towns across suburban England, teenage interviewers stop their peers on the street, fielding questions that range from fashion choices to humorous hypotheticals and local neighbourhood dramas, in the process building a large social media following and showcasing their patch of land to the world. “950 [pounds] for that, you know my ting,” a teenage white boy says about his Canada Goose jacket in a video recorded in Bury St Edmunds. “We’re checking his drip, ya dun know, you heard my man,” someone says in another video.

Both the hosts and many of the interviewees speak with this distinct drawl – Multicultural London English (MLE), a dialect born in London’s African-Caribbean communities in the 1970s and 80s. (Some now argue that “Black British English” is a more fitting term.) It’s rooted in Jamaican patois with influences from cockney, and more recently Arabic, the US and West African Pidgin English.

Complaint accuses 26-year-old Christian ‘King’ Combs of assault aboard yacht chartered by music mogul father in December 2022

Music mogul Sean “Diddy” Combs and his 26-year-old son Christian “King” Combs are both named in a lawsuit that accuses the younger man of sexual assault aboard a yacht in December 2022.

The suit, filed in Los Angeles superior court on Thursday and first reported by Rolling Stone , accuses the younger Combs of assault, battery, sexual assault and intentional infliction of emotional distress. The elder Combs, who is facing several lawsuits alleging sexual abuse and was recently subject to federal raids in a sex-trafficking investigation, is accused of aiding and abetting.

The London punk-rap band’s second album advocates for repatriation and an aggressive approach to the rental crisis. But equally important, says frontman Bobby Vylan, is promoting hope and self-worth

Bobby Vylan attended his first pro-Palestine protest at the age of 15, escorted by a friend’s mother. He remembers the “feeling of people coming together and using their voice to say that they don’t stand by the actions of this country”. Nearly two decades later, the singer and guitarist of rap-punk duo Bob Vylan has found himself marching again amid the escalation of destruction in Gaza since October 2023. He has also been calling out bands that describe themselves as leftwing but haven’t shown solidarity with Palestinians: at a show in Dublin in November, he castigated Idles and Sleaford Mods for their “cowardice”. (Idles subsequently voiced their support ; Sleaford Mods’ Jason Williams said he is “horrified by the atrocities committed in Gaza and Israel”.) When I meet Bobby in Shoreditch, he reiterates his disgust for any act that stays silent despite having a radical aesthetic. “You might want to think of a new angle for your next album,” he says.

A burning sense of rage against injustice amplifies his fearsome but beautiful roar on stage and in the studio. Bob Vylan sing music that draws as much from grime as it does hardcore and tackles themes from the cost of living crisis, unscrupulous landlords and toxic masculinity in explicit, cursing, mocking fury. On the one hand, their abrasiveness makes their popularity seem remarkable – their last album, Bob Vylan Presents the Price of Life , reached the UK Top 20 – but they also couldn’t be more attuned to the state of the nation, their visceral live shows a jolt out of the doldrums: no wonder people are paying attention. They’ve formed their own scene far from the UK’s post-punk orthodoxy, collaborating with the likes of avant garde Bristol producer Grove, Laurie Vincent of Soft Play (formerly Slaves) and Enter Shikari. Still, they’re aiming higher this time. On their new album, Bobby sings: “The album went to 18 but they know I’m No 1.” Humble as the Sun represents an ambitious step up, with hip-hop-influenced production and high-profile samples, including revamping Fatboy Slim’s Right Here, Right Now on a track of the same name.

Years of work by alleged victims and advocates have led to an investigation of the mogul and a suit against Russell Simmons

Last week, the world watched as agents of the US Department of Homeland Security dramatically raided two properties – one in Miami and one in Los Angeles – belonging to the music mogul Sean “Diddy” Combs, as part of an ongoing investigation into sex-trafficking allegations.

What fewer people probably knew was that just a couple of weeks earlier, the former hip-hop executive Drew Dixon had tracked down another industry legend, Russell Simmons, to serve him with a defamation lawsuit relating to her own alleged history of abuse at Simmons’s hands.