Drake and PARTYNEXTDOOR teaming up for an R&B album should’ve been a cultural moment. These are two artists who practically wrote the modern handbook on late-night toxicity—Drake, the king of regret-laced love songs, and PND, the architect of OVO’s signature moody, neon-lit sound. Yet, $ome $exy $ongs 4 U feels less like a carefully curated body of work and more like a playlist cobbled together from voice notes and leftover beats. It’s as if both artists knew they had to deliver something, but instead of giving us feels, they settled for filler.
From the jump, the album struggles to find a heartbeat. Take the opener, “CN Tower”. On paper, this should be a flex-heavy, boss-status anthem. Instead, it drags, weighed down by a tired flow and production that feels like it’s been sitting in a vault since More Life. Drake’s bars sound phoned-in, while PND’s presence is barely noticeable.
Then there’s “Spider-Man Superman”, a track that so desperately wants to ooze sensuality but instead feels like background music for an overpriced hookah lounge. The melody is forgettable, the lyrics uninspired. How did we go from the haunting, soul-crushing ache of Come and See Me to… this? There’s no tension, no longing, just vibes so watered down they barely register.
“Deeper” is one of the few tracks that tries to tap into something deeper—attempting to recapture the Jaded/Faithful era of wounded, bitter heartbreak. But even here, the emotional weight is missing. The production is skeletal, the songwriting surface-level, and PND’s delivery sounds like he’s playing the role of “toxic ex” rather than actually feeling the regret.
PARTYNEXTDOOR was once OVO’s best-kept secret, the mastermind behind some of Drake’s most intoxicating deep cuts (Preach, Wednesday Night Interlude). But here, he fades into the background, a shadow of the artist who once redefined modern R&B. On “Gimme a Hug”, he does what he’s been doing for years—mumbling his way through a beat, barely enunciating, as if the mere suggestion of melody is enough to carry a song. It’s not.
And let’s talk about “Raining in Houston”, a track that should have been a triumphant homecoming to PND’s Colours and PND2 era. Instead, it’s an empty shell of what once made his music special. The production is atmospheric but lifeless, the lyrics forgettable. There was a time when his vulnerability felt raw, when his melodies were undeniable. Now, it just sounds like he’s going through the motions.
Drake is no stranger to floating through collaborations, but here, his detachment is glaring. On “Small Town Fame”, he leans into the faux-wisdom of a man who’s played too many games but refuses to leave the casino. The result? Another lukewarm attempt at “grown-man R&B” that lacks any real depth or perspective.
Even when he tries to tap into nostalgia with “Nokia”, it feels artificial. It’s the kind of song that thinks it’s capturing intimacy but really just sounds like something made for an algorithm. It lacks the confessional quality of Redemption, the sting of Shot for Me, or even the effortless charm of Hold On, We’re Going Home.
$ome $exy $ongs 4 U isn’t a disaster—it’s just profoundly uninspired. It’s the sound of two artists who once thrived off vulnerability, tension, and heartache but now seem content coasting on aesthetic alone. The beats are moody, the lyrics are serviceable, but there’s no feeling.
For an album that promises sex appeal, it has all the passion of a copy-paste text. It’s not the steamy late-night confession we were hoping for—it’s the musical equivalent of a “U up?” text sent out of boredom.
