“His Pain” opens up with a jazzy isolated piano groove that is quickly drowned out by Kendrick Lamar’s soulful and pious rhyming. The rap titan is as tight with his flow as ever as he speaks of a casual day in the projects: death, cold, domestic abuse, and custody battles. Lamar’s voice is hoarse and vulnerable, cracking occasionally at couplets that are too rough for his smoke filled, cold riddled throat. “His Pain” feels so “Detroit” that it’s unreal. The piano sample, the double bass progression, the seductive saxophone, and B.J. The Chicago Kid’s preachy crooning at the song’s chorus create an impoverished, grandma’s vinyl collection atmosphere– and it works wonderfully. His voice is perfect for the urban ruggedness of the song, it’s not too appealing for the masses but by no means is it crude. Sitting back with a single listen to “His Pain” is like transporting yourself to the old living room of a Detroit slum: an old Marvin Gaye 45 on the turntable, a lone cigarette burning through the room, a Colt 45 sitting on the table near the fire place, relaxing in an old recliner, a distant gunshot or siren in the distance. The combination of B.J. The Chicago Kid and Lamar is one for the history books. The duo has created an entirely unique and refreshing experience to hip-hop: a snowy, Four Brothers-esque trip.