Monday, September 20th, 2021

Drake ft. Future and Young Thug – Way 2 Sexy



Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Unpleasant, unclever, droning, joyless, gimmicky — and most criminally — utterly and completely sexless. 

Ian Mathers: Yeah, this sounds like the kind of thing a dude who makes his album art a bunch of zhuzhed-up emojis would do. It’s almost shocking how lazy it seems Drake has gotten, totally outpaced on his own track by two other artists working well below their own potential.

Scott Mildenhall: Great if you’re invested in Drake enough to find the proposition amusing, but otherwise nothing special — the Fairbrasses were too sexy for a syrup too, after all. In a way, the reproduction — the reduction of a joke to a meme — is evolution, but it is quite a bland one. And if he were a real Fredhead, he’d be sampling “Deeply Dippy” or “You’re My Mate.” Rise to their challenge, everybody. (Just not their politics.)

Al Varela: The sheer stupidity of this song astounds me. I heard about this song being in the works and I hoped and prayed that it would sample Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy”, and I felt so liberated when it did. And just like “I’m Too Sexy,” “Way 2 Sexy” is the ridiculous sex flex that I wanted it to be. Future singing “I’m too sexy for the trap” is hilarious, and followed by Drake trying to be this girl-rotating playboy, is dumb enough that I can’t fully believe either of them when they claim to be sexy bad-asses. But I think that’s the magic of the song. It indulges in the fantasy so much that, even if it’s not convincing, it’s still fun to hear them flex and make goofy voices over this ridiculous sample. The video certainly doesn’t help make the song look less like a joke. But I love that!

Andrew Karpan: The first thing Right Said Fred singer Richard Fairbrass proclaims he is too sexy for is love, a sentiment it is not hard to imagine Drake shares, even if it doesn’t make it on tp the sample that propels the latter’s latest hit to the same peak Fairbrass had worked so hard to climb. But Drake is loveless, animated by the kind of offhand cruelty that comes to a man with nothing to say who must therapeutically extinguish his existential malaise to an audience of millions who don’t want to hear it. The contempt he feels toward his fans, the animating energy behind his latest work, has become the most understandable thing about him. At long last, it can be said that Drake has come to match the vampiric despair so elegantly cultivated by longtime collaborator Future, and their sad song haunts a grim city of public housing blocks.

Alfred Soto: Until Future delivers a rap as weird and dense as he might’ve during his 2015 heyday, the rest of “Way 2 Sexy” sounds like a recovery meeting.

Nortey Dowuona: Back in 2010 I first watched “Over,” a new single from the new artist Drake. There were the silly faces, the clumsy punchlines, the world killing hook, the dumb fashion choices. I was enthralled. I found the song four years later during my waning high school years of fumbling through my IGCSEs and A-levels, but at that point, I no longer liked Drake on it. I listened to that beat alone, amazed at how it could carry even my own myopic and thinly sketched raps. At this point, that was how I felt about Drake’s raps — myopic and thinly sketched, buoyed by a Dead Prez namecheck, Ebert and Roeper joke and one actually good line: I’m way too young to be feeling this old. And now drake is 34 and is too old to be feeling this young. Everything he has done has allowed some of the most cynical (Donald Glover), hollow (Travis Scott), lazy (Cardi B) and delusionally arrogant (J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, and ASAP rocky) rappers to sour and wither, their own art wilting in the harsh light of commerce. And here Drake tries again to suck away the spinning energy of the two rappers who we once thought could never be caught or equalled. Future is so desperately vile it seems more and more like a defensive pose to hide his own pathetic and self-immolating life, Jeffrey seems more and more bored with being asked to make this irritating pedant interesting to folks who don’t know much of Nickelus F and K-Os, and the beat begins with a sliver of a sizzling synth line that is immediately smothered by a dull set of 808 drums and cloying synth horns. It should be gloriously pathetic and maddeningly hilarious, but it’s so limp and weak and hollow you can’t even laugh at it or dance to it. Why are we still letting drake pretend to be from Atlanta, Durban, London, or Kingston? Why are we writing about his most vacant and numb music that exposes his cowardice and emotional abuse to a woman he so publicly lusted over and pretended to adore? Why are we still pretending the jokes about him being soft and weak were anything but trying to corral him with the sting of a masculine excommunication that he quickly capitulated to? Why am I listening to this man name and list all his enablers, trying to keep the money rolling in and the hits lining their walls and the co-signs written on their songs? Why did we hear from two random famous young girls about him slithering up to them and see one very non-famous young girl be kissed, then joked on in such a gross way? Why did I not see that the boy was not ever going to be a man? Why did Boi-1da and Ali Khaaliq hand this man a world-conquering hit that just demonstrated he would not be able to conquer the world without it? Why did we not get him and 40 to stay songwriters? Why is “Over” still so good?

Reader average: [3.33] (3 votes)

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One Response to “Drake ft. Future and Young Thug – Way 2 Sexy”

  1. singles drakebox update: the average Drake score on the jukebox (4.906) is running dangerously close to levels not seen in a decade. If not for “Seeing Green” and its near-sidebar mark of 6.71, Drake’s average would have dipped to 4.88, roughly the average from the months in 2011 preceding the release of “Take Care” (the single). Perhaps more notably, we seem to have less and less to say about Drake: of the past three years of Drake, we’ve only had 10 or more blurbs for him twice, a 42% decrease from the preceding three years.