To Pimp a Butterfly is Kendrick Lamar’s second major label studio album and his third full-length project. Released through Top Dawg Entertainment, Aftermath Entertainment, and Interscope Records, it followed his critically acclaimed 2012 debut, good kid, m.A.A.d city. The album was widely praised upon its release, earning 11 Grammy nominations and being celebrated as one of the greatest hip-hop albums of all time. This is alos my favourite Kendrick Lamar Project.
The best way to read this article is by listening to the album or reading the lyrics via Genius as you read along. Youy might have to do so much cross checking.
The first time I truly heard the conversation at the end of Kendrick Lamar’s "Mortal Man." It’s a phantom dialogue, an old interview with Tupac Shakur, but it felt more real and relevant to my world than any news report. In it, Kendrick asks Tupac about a metaphor—the ground—and Tupac’s reply has been in my mind ever since, framing everything I’ve come to understand about Ugandan politics.
He said:
“The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil… And the ground is the symbol for the poor people. The poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up the rich people. Cause the rich people gonna be so fat and they gonna be so appetizing… They might eat the rich.”
That conversation is the key. It unlocks the cycle that defines Uganda’s story since 1986: the perpetual struggle between "everybody in power versus everybody not." Yoweri Museveni, when he took power, as that initial "caterpillar"—a hustler fighting for the oppressed masses, our ground. But after nearly forty years, his rule is what scholars call an Electoral Authoritarian Regime (EAR). He’s become the established power, the "rich people" who now look "appetizing" to a new, hungry generation. As Tupac warns, when the rebels get in power, they risk turning into the very thing they despised.
I want to take you through this journey, to show you how Museveni’s regime mastered the art of "pimping the butterfly"—using the beautiful costume of democracy to hide an authoritarian body. We'll trace his reign through the narrative of Kendrick’s album, and in doing so, I hope to explain how a revolution lost its way.
Part I: The Caterpillar’s Hustle—A Revolutionary Promise (1986–2001)
The caterpillar, as Tupac explains it, is a "prisoner to the streets," and its only purpose is to "consume everything around it" to survive the "mad city." This raw hunger perfectly describes the revolutionary struggle and the NRM's consolidation of power after 1986.
Currently playing: Wesley’s Theory & For Free? (Interlude)
When you listen to "Wesley’s Theory," it moves us to the atmosphere of 1986. Museveni’s origin story is that of a "natural born hustler." He was an intellectual, a guerrilla fighter who waged the Bush War against a brutal regime. When he finally seized power after the Battle of Kampala, his promise of a "fundamental change, not a mere change of guard" felt like the sun breaking through after a long, dark storm.
In the track, Uncle Sam offers the caterpillar the spoils of success: a house, a car, the dream. This was the NRM’s Ten-point Programme—the promise of democracy, security, and a better life for all Ugandans. But then comes the warning (on the song): “And everything you buy, taxes will deny / I'll Wesley Snipe your ass before thirty-five…”. This, for me, is the foreshadowing. It hints at how the state’s resources would eventually be centralized, benefiting loyalists—the "lion share"—instead of the masses.
This leads directly into the anger of "For Free?". The track is a realization that the world praises the beautiful butterfly (a functioning democracy) but shuns the gritty caterpillar (the revolutionary struggle). For 19 years, the NRM operated under a "No-party" Movement system. To the outside world, especially the West who once called Museveni a "beacon of hope," this looked like progress. But on the inside, we knew the "butterfly" of true multi-party democracy was being deliberately kept in its cage.
I saw this play out in real time (joking i was born in 2000). The elections of 1996 and 2001 were held, but genuine competition was restricted. When Kizza Besigye challenged the 2001 results, our own Supreme Court ruled the elections were not free and fair, but let the result stand. That was the moment it became clear. Our system was already learning how to pimp the butterfly.
Part II: Pimping the Butterfly—Building an Autocracy (2001–Present)
This is the core of the story, the moment Tupac’s caterpillar, seeing the butterfly as weak, "figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits." This is where we watched the Ugandan state begin to actively use its democratic costume for authoritarian gain.
Currently playing: King Kunta & Institutionalized
"King Kunta" is the anthem of a ruler who feels indispensable. When I hear Kendrick rap about being the king, I think of how Museveni systematically dismantled our constitution to achieve a life presidency. To become "King Kunta," he had to execute what I can only describe as constitutional coups.
The first was in 2005, when presidential term limits were removed. 223 Members of Parliament reportedly received about 5 million shillings each to pass that amendment. It’s not a fortune, but it was enough to buy a piece of our country's future. The second was in 2017, when the presidential age limit was scrapped, clearing his path to rule indefinitely. He had used the mechanisms of democracy to kill democracy itself.
This is the trap of "Institutionalized." The caterpillar "goes to work on the cocoon," trapping himself inside. For Uganda, this cocoon is the state itself. The entire architecture—our electoral commission, our security agencies, our judiciary—has been "institutionalized to serve the incumbent’s purposes."
I’ve seen this with my own eyes. The country watched Bobi Wine withdraw his 2021 election petition because the Chief Justice presiding over his case had previously been Museveni’s personal lawyer. How can you expect a fair hearing in a system like that? Our state institutions have become Museveni’s pockets. And with his own son commanding the army now, the military’s grip ensures this cocoon remains unbreakable.
Currently playing: These Walls, u, & Alright
These tracks capture the suffocating climate of fear that this system creates. The "walls" are the intimidation and violence used to crush dissent. I’ve watched our security forces brutalize opposition supporters. I’ve seen them raid Bobi Wine’s offices just days before an election. I’ve experienced the internet shutdowns during voting periods—in 2011, 2016, and 2021—a deliberate strategy to control information and stop us from organizing.
The despair in "u" reflects the feeling of betrayal. The hope of 1986 has, for many of my generation, curdled into the realization that the liberator has become the ruler. But then comes "Alright." That track, for me, is the sound of our resilience. It’s the defiant energy I see in the streets, the hope that pulses through opposition rallies despite the teargas and arrests. It’s a spiritual belief that, no matter what, "we gon' be alright."
Part III: The Entrenched Butterfly—How the System Survives (2006–Present)
In the end, the butterfly is meant to shed light on the issues the caterpillar ignored. But in our story, the butterfly itself—our democratic process—has become the tool that helps the autocrat survive.
Currently playing: Hood Politics, How Much a Dollar Cost, & The Blacker The Berry
These tracks expose the raw mechanics of our EAR’s survival. First, the uncontrolled presidential power gives Museveni control over the economy, our resources. Patronage isn't just simple bribery; it's strategic. Looking at the constant creation of new districts and you can see a tool used to carve up constituencies, reward local elites, and secure parliamentary votes for his agenda.
Second, the regime actively exploits a weak and divided opposition. Through harassment and buy-offs, it ensures our opposition parties are too fragmented to mount a united front.
Finally, the regime survives because of external actors. I often hear Museveni claim that our oil is "my oil." This resource wealth, combined with his positioning of Uganda as a "regional security engine" in places like Somalia, grants him a degree of immunity from international criticism. I’ve heard our opposition leaders directly blame the US and the IMF for "financially and militarily facilitating" this regime, allowing it to buy military hardware to suppress us.
When you listen to the album through to the end you realize that the butterfly and the caterpillar are "one and the same." This is our infinite loop.
The man who came to power promising a "fundamental change" has used our constitution to entrench his own rule. The elections we’ve had since 2006 haven't been opportunities for change, but rituals that legitimize his persistence.
And this creates the perfect conditions for the next rebellion. Museveni, the former caterpillar, has become the "appetizing" rich person, and the hungry "ground" is beginning to stir. When I listen to this album now, I hear the echo of our own story. I see the caterpillar that promised us wings, and the butterfly it became—beautiful, powerful, but ultimately caged by the very ambition that gave it life.