If you’ve spent any time on the lyrical side of the internet—specifically the murky waters of YouTube comments, Reddit forums, or Spotify’s "Song Radio"—you have likely stumbled upon a phantom track. It sits in the uncanny valley of music discovery. The title is tantalizingly familiar: Kendrick Lamar - Somebody That I Used to Know.
For the uninitiated, a frantic search yields confusion. You find the Gotye track featuring Kimbra—the 2011 indie pop anthem about a bitter, dissolved relationship. You find the three-part rap epic Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst from Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d city, which famously samples the phrase. But you do not find a studio recording of Kendrick Lamar rapping over the xylophone plucks of Gotye’s hit.
And yet, the search persists.
Why? Because in the collective imagination of hip-hop fans, this song should exist. The phantom "Kendrick Lamar - Somebody That I Used to Know" is not a real track; it is a Rorschach test for thematic obsession. It is the sound of two disparate artistic universes colliding to describe a uniquely modern condition: the haunting realization that the person you have become is a stranger to the person you were.
This article dissects why this mashup exists only in our heads, how Kendrick Lamar has actually addressed the theme of fractured identity, and why Gotye’s 2011 anthem is the perfect, albeit accidental, skeleton key to unlocking the Compton rapper’s darkest lyrical corridors.
Let’s address the algorithm first. For several years, a popular bootleg audio file circulated on YouTube titled "Kendrick Lamar - Somebody That I Used To Know (Gotye Cover)." It garnered millions of views before being repeatedly taken down for copyright infringement. The audio, however, was not Kendrick. It was usually a fan-made mashup, layering an acapella of Kendrick’s verse from The City (with The Game) or Rigamortus over an off-key remix of the Gotye instrumental.
The title stuck because search engines love juxtaposition. "Kendrick Lamar" represents critical mass, Pulitzer-winning complexity, and street authenticity. "Somebody That I Used To Know" represents mainstream melancholia and minimalist indie pop. Together, they form a click-bait chimera.
But beneath the SEO noise lies a profound literary truth: Kendrick Lamar has spent his entire career writing variations of "Somebody That I Used To Know"—he just never called it that.
Because you typed the keyword, you want the audio.
In 2023, a YouTuber named Carlos Serrano (or similar mashup artists like The Hood Internet) created a viral edit titled “Kendrick Lamar x Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know.”
Warning: These mashups are rarely on Spotify or Apple Music due to copyright. You will find them on SoundCloud or YouTube only.
In Gotye’s 2011 hit “Somebody That I Used to Know,” the central anguish comes from waking up to find that a once-intimate connection has dissolved into cold indifference. The lyric—“You didn’t have to stoop so low / Have your friends collect your records and then change your number”—captures the paradox of memory: we remember someone perfectly, yet they no longer exist in the present. If we apply that lens to Kendrick Lamar’s discography, a different but equally haunting picture emerges. Kendrick’s music is less about romantic estrangement and more about the fractures between his past and present selves, between fame and poverty, and between the man he is and the city that raised him. In that sense, Kendrick Lamar has spent his career singing about people he used to know—including himself.
The Estranged Self: “u” and “i”
On To Pimp a Butterfly, Kendrick stages a raw conversation between his current, successful self and his depressed, guilt-ridden self. In “u,” he weeps in a hotel room, drowning in survivor’s guilt over a friend who died and a cousin he couldn’t save. The voice he addresses is his own: “Loving you is complicated.” By “i,” he flips to defiant self-love, but the tension remains. He has become somebody he used to know—the hopeful kid from Compton, the hungry rapper before the Pulitzer Prize. The gap between those versions of himself is as painful as any breakup.
The City as a Lost Lover: “good kid, m.A.A.d city”
Kendrick’s major-label debut is a concept album about losing innocence. The “somebody” he used to know is not a person but a version of his environment—before the peer pressure, before the van carrying Sherane’s cousins, before the drive-by. The album’s skits and voicemails from his mother ground the story in intimacy. By the end, when he raps “I pray my dick get big as the Eiffel Tower / So I can fuck the world for 72 hours,” the boy who just wanted a working stereo and a girl’s affection is gone. In his place is a scarred storyteller. Compton, too, becomes somebody he used to know: still beloved, still violent, but viewed from a tour bus rather than a back seat.
Friends, Enemies, and Ghosts: “The Art of Peer Pressure”
The most literal reading comes in songs like “The Art of Peer Pressure,” where Kendrick recounts committing crimes with friends who have since faded into prison, death, or estrangement. He raps, “Me and my nigga, we was scheming again / That’s all we knew, wasn’t nothing to it.” Those friends are now “somebodies he used to know”—not because of a dramatic falling out, but because survival and fame created an unspoken distance. The chorus of Gotye’s song insists, “We’re just somebody that we used to know.” For Kendrick, the tragedy is that both parties still remember the bond, but the context has rotted it away.
Conclusion: The Familiar Stranger
Kendrick Lamar has never covered Gotye, but their shared theme—the sorrow of recognition without reconciliation—runs through Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers. When he confronts his uncle for molesting him as a child on “Mother I Sober,” or when he addresses transphobia in “Auntie Diaries,” he is speaking to people he used to know: not as insults, but as acknowledgments of change. To write a song called “Somebody That I Used to Know” in Kendrick’s voice would not be a bitter kiss-off. It would be a quiet, bruised admission that growing up means accumulating ghosts—of places, of friends, of who you swore you would never become. And the hardest part is that you still recognize them in the mirror.
While there is no official song titled "Somebody That I Used To Know" by Kendrick Lamar
, the connection typically refers to his unreleased track "Somebody" or high-profile samples of the Gotye classic within his circle. 1. Kendrick Lamar's Unreleased Song "Somebody"
Kendrick has an unreleased track titled "Somebody" that reportedly surfaced as a leftover from his 2022 album Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers.
Leaks and Snippets: Fragments of this song have circulated on social media and fan forums like Reddit, often shared under titles like "Somebody | Unreleased | Part 1".
Themes: The lyrics are noted for their heavy, introspective tone, with Kendrick rapping about carrying "heavier hearts" like an Olympian powerlifter. 2. T.I.’s "Memories Back Then" (The Gotye Sample)
The most famous direct link between Kendrick and Gotye's "Somebody That I Used To Know" involves the song "Memories Back Then" by T.I., featuring B.o.B. and Kendrick Lamar.
The Original Sample: The original version of this track heavily sampled Gotye's "Somebody That I Used To Know".
Sample Clearance Issues: Due to legal trouble clearing the Gotye sample, the song was officially released with a new, original instrumental that mimicked the vibe but removed the direct Gotye elements. 3. Doechii's "Anxiety"
, an artist formerly signed to Kendrick’s label Top Dawg Entertainment (TDE), released the song "Anxiety," which prominently samples Gotye and Kimbra's 2011 hit.
Music Video: The video for "Anxiety" explicitly references the iconic Gotye music video style. 4. Fan Mashups
There are numerous popular fan-made remixes and mashups that blend Kendrick's vocals (such as from "Humble") with Gotye’s "Somebody That I Used To Know" backing tracks, often appearing on platforms like TikTok. I. collaboration?
The most compelling aspect of the cover is Lamar’s manipulation of the source material. He does not simply sing the lyrics; he raps them. During the verses originally performed by Gotye, Lamar employs a staccato flow that emphasizes the internal rhymes of the lyrics, which are often glossed over in the original’s melodic drawl.
Phrases like "You didn't have to cut me off" are delivered with a percussive force that changes the subtext. In the original, these lines sound like a plea. In Lamar’s version, they sound like an indictment. He bridges the gap between singing and rapping, utilizing his signature vocal elasticity—bending notes, chopping syllables, and altering his pitch to convey frustration rather than sadness.
Furthermore, the performance includes ad-libs and improvised structuring that ground the pop song in hip-hop traditions. He treats the pop lyrics with the same rhythmic complexity he applies to his own intricate bars, elevating the source material from a radio jingle to a technical vocal exercise.
If you were under the impression Kendrick was on the original radio hit, the "proper feature" credit actually belongs to New Zealand singer Kimbra. The correct format for the worldwide hit is:
Gotye – "Somebody That I Used to Know" (feat. Kimbra)
Gotye’s original song is a duet about a romantic breakup where blame is a boomerang. You cut me off, I felt used, but wait—you say I left you with nothing. It is a perfect loop of resentment.
Kendrick Lamar does not do romantic breakups. He does existential ones.
The "Somebody That I Used To Know" in Kendrick’s universe is not an ex-lover; it is:
In u (from To Pimp a Butterfly), Kendrick literally screams at himself in a hotel room. "Loving you is complicated," he hisses through sobs. He is looking in a mirror at a person he no longer recognizes—a depressed, alcoholic, guilt-ridden celebrity. If that isn't "Somebody That I Used To Know," what is?
