Akademiks Was Right About J. Cole–He Can't Claim King Anymore

Like the rest of the internet, my timeline has been filled with videos from New Jersey-based Diamond Gym — the location where the “Til The Death” athletics collective films extreme workouts that look like a test of survival. The people at Diamond Gym perform pain. They treat suffering like a badge of honor, because the point isn’t just fitness. The point is proving you’re willing to die for it.

It’s that same willingness to take it to extremes that turned the stakes in the Kendrick Lamar and Drake beef into a cultural moment that remains the main talking point of hip-hop two years later. The barrage of disses between the two artists became a game of “How far into the depths of hell are you willing to go to assassinate the character of your nemesis?” And it turned personal quickly. Once “Euphoria” dropped, it felt like a rap beef became a fight to the death.

But before “Euphoria,” some, including myself, felt the stakes were limited to rap. Nothing more, nothing less, just two of the greatest of their generation separating themselves from a dialogue that often clumped them with a third man: J Cole. These days, it’s less about who won and more about who survived. Unfortunately, J. Cole has faced varying levels of public confidence regarding where he plans to go next.

Some claim he’s the greatest of the three; others say he’s second to either Drake or Kendrick. In many cases, though, he’s existed in isolation from the other two. Drake was always the commercially viable star, and Kendrick Lamar was the critical darling. In the last decade, that dynamic shifted — Cole became more accessible outside the bubble he existed in, his fanbase became less obnoxious (and currently the most tolerable among the three), and his prolific output made a strong case for why he’s this generation’s GOAT. Albums like K.O.D. and The Off-Season became pillars in an incredible career arc, and features alongside Benny The Butcher, J.I.D., and even Bia reinforced his versatility as an MC.

It’s these displays of artistry that made his claims of being the best convincing. He seemed to put up a solid, albeit no-contact, fight to compete against Drake and Kendrick on his own terms — until things spiraled. “7 Minute Drill” effectively derailed that. Despite releasing a strong mixtape with Might Delete Later, the outro — a response to Kendrick’s “Big 3” bar on “Like That” — felt like a forced attempt to insert himself into a beef the internet wanted him to join. Between dismissing Kendrick’s catalog and firing off gun metaphors, he still teased The Fall Off with assurance: “I’m fully loaded, n***a, I can drop two classics right now.”

Apologizing and scrubbing the song flattened years of momentum J Cole had built toward The Fall Off. That’s when the conversation shifted. Bowing out was one thing, but releasing “Port Antonio” to justify his messy exit reiterated why Cole has often been the third man when stacked against Drake and Kendrick.

But Cole has often prioritized resolution over escalation. With Ye, he threw shots that felt prophetic, yet still extended respect even when it wasn’t reciprocated. With Lil Pump, he tried to bridge a generational divide that Pump attempted to weaponize against him. Even moments of conflict have been softened into spectacle, like jokingly reenacting his alleged Diddy altercation for social media. And with Drake and Kendrick, he made the same choice at the highest possible stakes, opting out entirely. That instinct toward restraint is precisely why Akademiks’ recent commentary feels valid after years of J Cole framing himself as untouchable on the mic — without ever fully testing it.

“At a certain point, you could respect a n***a who get his ass whipped. You just can’t respect a n***a who, like, popped his sh*t and then he ran,” Akademiks said.

Even if Akademiks is biased at times, his critique reflects real disappointment. Fat Joe echoed a similar sentiment when he said he can’t look at Cole the same way. And while Ray Daniels has theories about why Joe — who is also under Roc Nation — would say that publicly, it does fit a familiar narrative: Cole’s back is against the wall for arguably the first time in his career. The Fall Off, if it’s his last album, doubles as an opportunity to silence critics. This rollout has been shaped by fan anxiety, skeptic disinterest, and the pressure to renegotiate his place in rap when the Big 3 conversation is already obsolete. Kendrick and Drake can’t look at Cole as a threat anymore, which, in a way, is the blessing of the album title: the only hurdle he faces now is himself. And that’s when he’s at his most riveting.

“For the past 10 years, this album has been handcrafted with one intention: a personal challenge to myself to create my best work. To do on my last what I was unable to do on my first. I had no way of knowing how much time, focus and energy it would eventually take to achieve this, but despite countless challenges along the way, I knew in my heart I would one day get to the finish line. I owed it first and foremost to myself. And secondly, I owed it to hip hop.”

Through K.O.D. until now, J. Cole has been diligently planting the seeds for this project that he’s suggested could be his last. Whether that’s true has yet to be determined, but bowing out gracefully after such a tumultuous fumble isn’t easy when you haven’t been given much grace. In the aftermath of “Track 2 - Disc 2,” the first offering where Cole narrates his life in a way that pays homage to Nas’ "Rewind," Ak called out Cole for claiming to be the best alive.

“Fast forward sixty years, I got verse of the year
My purpose is clear - it's to murk whoever dare flirt with death
The best alive, what you now hear is the work”

What Are The Stakes For J. Cole?

More notable than the claim is the way he framed Jay-Z as “one of the so-called kings of this rap thing” — and that one bar might be the strongest indication of Cole’s outlook on the landscape of rap, showing that either he’s accepted there’s no definitive GOAT or that public validation no longer carries the weight it once did when he released A Sideline Story.

Cole’s stated that The Fall Off is the Reasonable Doubt of his catalog — but where that comparison actually lands will only be determined once the album drops in its entirety. For 10 years, Cole has worked diligently, leaving enough breadcrumbs and material that preceded this album to make Might Delete Later and “7 Minute Drill” feel as devastating as a self-inflicted blow. But chatter from internal sources close to Cole makes it clear that not only is the reward worth the anticipation, but the narratives that have haunted him for the past two years will ultimately be regarded as a blip in his storied career.

“Everything is supposed to go away eventually. You see this especially in show business with famous actors or musicians, and it’s like, ‘Oh, this guy used to be famous and then he fell off. What happened?’... Instead of thinking that, it’s kind of crazy they got famous in the first place.”

"Quitters Never Win & Winners Never Quit"

At Diamond Gym, quitting is worse than injury. In rap, backing out is worse than losing. The entire point is proving you’re willing to break. It’s the same test Kendrick and Drake accepted, and the one J. Cole declined — not because he couldn’t survive it, but because the damage wasn’t worth the validation. That choice came at the cost of credibility, momentum, and a place in a conversation he helped build. He wasn’t judged by who he beat, but by what he walked away from. Yet it reinforced the throughline on his recent Birthday Blizzard ’26 mixtape: the only competition that still matters to him is internal. The potency of his skill set may be enough to outlast the noise his apology created, even with the hollow threats to other rappers. On “Bronx Zoo,” he makes it clear he won’t be counted out that easily.

The top ain't really what I thought it would be
And so I jumped off and landed back at the bottom
And restarted at a level where I wasn't regarded as much
Just to climb past them again and tell 'em all to keep up

If Birthday Blizzard ’26 is an honest preview of The Fall Off, then Cole is taking control of the story that tried to bury his legacy. And whether that’s enough to climb back to the top matters less than the fact that, this time, he’s climbing on his own terms.