The Singles Jukebox

Yes, today was a Drake or Drake-adjacent theme day. Please contain your excitement.

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[3.67]

Thomas Inskeep: C’mon, Drizzy. I for one like his sensitivity; it feels genuine. This bullshit sex rap sounds like posturing, and not attractively. And fuck you, Khaled, this ain’t “another anthem” — at least I hope not, because while I’ve liked plenty of your records, this one’s just plain gross.
[2]

Cassy Gress: DJ Khaled wanted a summer anthem, and at least as far as the beat goes, he could have had one; this sounds roughly as summery as Big Willie Style did in 1998. But then he got Drake to monotone all over it like he usually does, with the added bonus of being so occasionally sing-songy that when he’s not trying to sing, he just sounds off-key. If his dick is that great, he should probably sound less blasé about it; who wants to fuck someone who’s just gesturing lazily at his dick while watching TV?
[3]

Alfred Soto: The aqueous keyboard mix — is it a sample? — doesn’t deserve Aubrey Graham’s moaning. I would’ve taken Rick Ross.
[5]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: Hip-hop’s A Tale of two Memes team-up for an ode to summer sex that just makes me a believer of the #SWOONSTEP theory that sex with Drake is ultimately dissapointing. Lucky for them, the Majid Jordan groove is HOT as hell. 
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: If Khaled’s good for nothing else, at least he persuaded Drake to rap over something with a bit of funk; for a long while it has seemed as if Aubrey Graham would refuse production that exhibited any greater sign of life than your average slab of concrete. Less inspiring, no one thought to tell him to quit the syllable-elongation that’s recently gripped his fancy: that sneer has become one of the more intolerable tics of an artist I periodically enjoy. It’s not like he’s trying, anyway: these lines about wet pussy, fat ass, and fitness regimes that sit where aspiration meets objectification could have been drawn from any of a number of earlier Drake songs. Oh, and there’s “I know you workin’ day and night to get a college degree”: that trope about the stripper putting herself through college on tips generalized to the vaguest universality so that it isn’t even a backstory now. Hey, maybe she’s actually working as an RA: shout out to the middle-class. (Drake loves doing this: think the not-actually-about-drugs lines concerning pulling strings to get through customs on “305 to My City.”) Also Khaled, bellowing “they didn’t want me to have another one,” sounds today not like an amicable phony but like he has the same needy resentment Trump exhibits: I preferred when their commonality extended only to a fondness for needling Jeb Bush.
[3]

Jonathan Bogart:  It certainly is another one.
[4]