Drake’s $ome $exy $ongs 4 U: A Strategic Retreat to His R&B Roots

On the cover of his 2016 album Views, Drake sat atop Toronto’s CN Tower, surveying his kingdom—a fitting image for a record that cemented him as the defining superstar of the streaming era. Originally titled Views from the 6, after his city’s adopted moniker, the album marked his ambition to expand beyond North America and dominate the global stage. With longtime collaborator Noah “40” Shebib crafting a moody, atmospheric soundscape, Drake’s signature blend of rap and R&B connected across borders, propelling Views into the Top 5 in over a dozen countries. “I made a career off reminiscing,” he once said, but the album’s success wasn’t just about nostalgia—it was about refining an aesthetic that turned melody into a shorthand for emotional vulnerability. His raps were sometimes clumsy, his singing often strained, yet his fusion of hip-hop and R&B reshaped rap’s landscape, shifting it away from its historically regional roots into something more fluid and globally accessible.

For so long, Drake’s influence has been inescapable, making it easy to forget that his transformation of rap began with R&B. From the outset, he and 40 envisioned hip-hop through the lens of its sister genre, emphasizing mood over traditional structure. “We didn’t set out to break the rules,” 40 explained in 2012. “It was more about Drake asking me to take the drums out or ‘lo-fi’ a track, and me realizing that I actually could—and that it created a unique perspective on his message.” That perspective changed rap forever, but Drake’s message has evolved. When Kendrick Lamar rapped last year, “I like Drake with the melodies, I don’t like Drake when he act tough,” he pointed to the shift in Drake’s persona—from sensitive, self-reflective outsider to boastful, hyper-masculine antagonist. That transformation arguably cost him the biggest battle in rap history.

Following a year of public and lyrical defeats at Kendrick’s hands, Drake’s latest release, $ome $exy $ongs 4 U, marks a tactical retreat. Rather than engaging in further confrontation, he returns to the R&B-infused foundation that first set him apart. Even the title signals a low-stakes, soft launch—a way to test the waters post-beef while safeguarding his commercial standing. This is not the statement, but a calculated reset. It’s also a collaborative effort with PARTYNEXTDOOR, the first artist signed to Drake’s OVO Sound label, reinforcing an “us versus them” narrative. The album cover, featuring the duo standing before the Absolute World skyscrapers in Mississauga, further emphasizes Drake’s desire to close ranks, both artistically and strategically. There’s no Grammy chase here—Kendrick already holds the critical high ground. Instead, Drake is focused on reasserting his dominance in the streaming charts.

Drake’s career has been built on masterful collaboration, but that same skill has fueled his critics. Kendrick’s dismantling of Drake in Not Like Us was made even more potent by the idea that he has built his success by absorbing and repurposing the sounds and styles of American artists. From his partnerships with Future and 21 Savage to Kendrick’s own barbs about Drake’s supposed “colonizing” of rap culture, the narrative has gained traction. $$$4U seems designed to counter that critique—it’s pure OVO, deeply rooted in the sonic aesthetic that Drake and 40 pioneered. Lo-fi textures, melancholic melodies, and atmospheric production dominate, recalling the signature sound of Take Care. The self-referential approach is unmistakable: “Gimme a Hug” nods to Marvin’s Room, while “Spider-Man Superman” samples “The Real Her,” reinforcing his legacy by intertwining past and present.

Rather than reinventing himself, Drake leans into what made him a force in the first place. $ome $exy $ongs 4 U isn’t a reinvention—it’s a recalibration. It may not silence his critics, but it ensures that, despite the hits he’s taken, Drake still controls the airwaves.