Well it was either this or run fifteen think pieces about Lana Del Rey.

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Pete Baran: This is not the Azealia Banks you are looking for. This is not what I was expecting from AB which may be a bit selfish of me, but something that stays so resolutely on tempo, with no rap, ends up feeling more like a guest slot on a Basement Jaxx album track than someone who is coming in all guns a’blazing. This surely isn’t a single.
[3]

Alex Ostroff: This is how all R&B samples should be used from now on in electronic music – not “spot my reference” nostalgia-evoking, but warped and twisted into something intoxicating and new. I like Azealia’s left-field R&B almost as much as her rapping, but for a while she complements Machinedrum’s beat more than she dominates it. On ‘212’, you couldn’t ignore what she was saying if you tried. On ‘NeedSumLuv’ I need to remind myself to pay attention to her during the first half of the track. She reasserts herself later, with playground taunt melodies (paging Reema Major) that suit the subject matter, and a resurgence of rhyme.
[7]

Brad Shoup: An R&B song that clocks around 2:30? Is Jerry Wexler producing?  Still, this is a different look for Banks, and except for a bunch of slant rhymes for “jewelry” and her surfer-boy voice on “another O”, this is a whole other area code than “212”. The bellowed middle-eight I thought rote in “212” is no more, replaced with a bunch of weird projection and too-high harmonics, both of which interest me nearly as much as her noted gift for assonance. 
[7]

John Seroff: Amid the year-end critical roar and the beginning of an inevitable backlash, anything Banks touches is oddly charged, especially in this company. So first things first: “NeedSumLove” is no “212”; many of the elements of Azealia’s outsized personality that lit up the NYC area code are in short supply here. What we get instead is AB as a cocky slow-jam diva, jingling her jewelry with confidence, smartly captaining a smaller, satisfying singsong booty call. “Love” wears surprisingly well over time and speaks encouragingly to Banks versatility and longevity past the hype cycle.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: Azealia Banks is in that pre-album limbo where any measure of hype below “212” (a title that doubles as her hype ranking on a one-to-ten scale) is seen as a failure. She’s smart; so is her team. Thus, we’ve already gotten an EP’s worth of music-called-content this year, this one given the blog-magnet designation “progressive R&B” and festooned with even bloggier Aaliyah samples like sprinkles. And it’s lush, gorgeously sung and lyrically provocative. It’s just not really a song, is it?
[5]

Anthony Easton: I am a sucker for both the playground rhyme, and the false oriental riff, both of which are present here, though subtle under a mountain of percussion, vocal repeats, tight samples, and a general experimental instinct. Was hoping it would go on for 15 minutes, and sad at the slow fadeout after less than three. Extra point for the Aaliyah sample.
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Jer Fairall: The Other Woman relationship drama of Robyn’s great “Call Your Girlfriend” given a ’12 makeover, but the weed has dulled the empathy along with the torment, leaving this feeling appropriately blase in attitude and underachieving in action no matter how charmingly playful the delivery.
[6]

Michaela Drapes: The first of Ms. Banks’ efforts that I find lives up to the hype — I think her bizzaro methods fare better when applied to straight up R&B; pretty please, can this be the sound to replicate in 2012, instead of endless iterations of Rihanna’s snoozers?
[7]

Alfred Soto: Where’s the rest of her? Left to fend for herself on a gurgling brook of recherche R&B signifiers, Banks is exposed as a winsome magpie in search of a context. It’s not a good look.
[5]

Iain Mew: A world away from “212” and musically slight, but the electronic voice bubbles away nicely and it all slips down ever so easily. And, actually, its garbled rush of words matches the conflicted, confusing situation as well as putting it across very fast. The fact that “want sum luv” and “need sum luv” eventually end up interchangeable seems particularly telling.
[7]

Michelle Myers: “Let me get you high, boy, I do just what you like,” but it isn’t about him at all; it’s about winning, and there is an implicit “she doesn’t.” Ultimately, being a side-chick is a hollow, unrewarding existence; winning ain’t luv. You will be racked with guilt unless less you learn contempt for her. Look at him smiling. Convince yourself she is a frigid shrew. Enjoy your pitiful slice of victory.
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