Something something gender split…

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[2.82]

Mallory O’Donnell: This year’s “Bad,” right down to the squeaky bedsprings and general miasma of hatefuckery.
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Megan Harrington: The premise of this song is beautifully illustrated by placing The Weeknd alongside Ty Dolla $ign. Can you (gagging noises, explosive hurling, vomit running down the wall opposite) or nah? I scored on the or nah because I would never hold The Weeknd against Ty, but maybe wait a full thirty minutes after eating before listening, just in case. 
[9]

Thomas Inskeep: “Can you really take dick or nah” pretty much sums it up. This is an ugly, amateur’s idea of seduction.
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Hazel Robinson: This song is fucking weird. So obviously it’s about getting fucked up at a party and doing a bunch of sex on the kitchen table — cool, cool, I’d probably do well here. And I really appreciate that a lot of it is consensual negotiations — “is we fucking when we leave the club or not?” and “can I bring another girl or not?” are all important questions. But where the fuck does “would you die for a n*gga or not?” come into it. Are we having sex in the taxi or are you fucking crying on me, pal? Christ, you do this every time you mix weed and booze, no let me out at the pizza place, I ain’t taking him home what a mess.
[7]

Brad Shoup: No hook, just a blunted creep. It’s not serious, more humorless, and if you’re coming with a yard-long laundry list, you gotta be cracking a smile or a smirk or something. But nah, everyone chooses a fucking tryptophan melody because they didn’t know Mustard’s best idea was going to be five seconds of ocean sounds.
[3]

Patrick St. Michel: One point here for DJ Mustard, whose decision to not say anything makes him the only non-repulsive element here.
[1]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: I saw DJ Mustard live on Sunday. It was weird. After beginning his set with a terribly misjudged Robin S trap remix, he eventually played snippets of tracks he had produced, cutting them off before the hook. Trey Songz’ “Fu-Gee-La” interpolation never arrived, nor did Drake on “Who Do You Love”, nor did Jeezy’s bottle service bellows on “R.I.P.” And there is something about Mustard’s music that brings out the worst in a room full of men, which meant that my female friends were savvy to plenty of unwanted grindings and palmings. Mustard was wise enough to forget his molasses-slow creepers, meaning we never got “Or Nah (Remix)”, a song that would have turned the mood to something truly toxic. It’s a good song, although Abel Tesfaye’s presence is a sign that you need to schedule a long shower afterwards. Ty sweetens his horniness with cravings for intercontinental breakfast; Wiz sounds like a wee boy playing dress-up, peppering come-ons with heart-eyed lines like “I be lying if I said you ain’t the one!” But humour, nuance and all-important yes/no dynamics don’t matter to some people, which only leaves the minor-key unease to fester. Thank goodness Mustard never played it, but he should be able to play this or any song without developing discomfort in the room, and that’s pretty fucked.
[6]

Anthony Easton: There is a really terrible poem by John Updike about fellatio that opens with “How beautiful to think/that each of these clean secretaries/at night, to please her lover, takes/a fountain into her mouth”. The only thing that you learn from the poem is that Updike has no concern at all about female partners when they are sucking his cock but thinks that he knows everything about them. This track is like that, with worse metaphors put forth with more violence.
[0]

Crystal Leww: For an artist who has faced wave after wave of misogyny criticisms, Ty Dolla $ign seems like he’s… trying? At least he asks the girl involved throughout this song if she’s interested, but that’s about it. He and Wiz Khalifa are not all that stimulating at the end of the day, even if Wiz manages to sound mostly okay until the stoned out “go on make that ass clap” at the end. Unfortunately, the Worstnd bit is straight out of a nightmare, the type of verse that makes you wonder if the dude’s ever actually had sex. And this is easily Mustard’s weakest production (y’all didn’t think we could go any lower than “Na Na,” but here we are): bedsprings as percussion still suck no matter how much of a genius you are with other sounds.
[3]

Andy Hutchins: The least objectionable line here is “I’ma go as far as you let me,” which is probably the most feminist thing Ty Dolla $ign will ever say. The second-least objectionable line here will ruin one breakfast staple for you if you realize the double entendre. So: Nah.
[2]

Alfred Soto: Four dicks in search of an author. 
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