Drake - Scorpion

No I.D. and 40 loop a tense, swirling sample and Drake opens with the album's defensive posture: enemies everywhere, success as warfare, the same paranoia he has been voicing since Take Care. The beat is atmospheric but the verse does not go anywhere, and the track fades out before it builds to anything. It sets the tone for the A side's weakest tendency, which is starting ideas and abandoning them before they develop.

Tay Keith's production is the album's hardest beat, a sparse rattle of hi-hats and 808s that became a signature sound for Drake's post-2018 rap tracks. He locks into the pocket and delivers one of the A side's few focused performances, riding the groove with a clipped, rhythmic flow. The hook is minimal and repetitive—"I just flipped the switch"—but it works because the beat does the heavy lifting. One of the album's best rap tracks and the only one where Drake sounds fully awake.

Nonstop da Hitman and PartyNextDoor produce a mid-tempo track with uncredited vocals from French Montana buried in the mix. The beat is clean but unremarkable, and the verse is another round of boasts about chart dominance and fake friends. It is competent filler, the kind of song that disappears the moment it ends.

No I.D. and 40 flip a Mariah Carey sample into a moody, contemplative beat, and Drake delivers one of the A side's few verses with any substance, reflecting on his mother, his public image, and the cost of fame. The writing is more specific than most of Scorpion, citing his mother's advice and his discomfort with being constantly watched. The Carey sample is gorgeous and the track benefits from a slower tempo that gives the verse room to breathe. It is one of the album's better moments, though it is placed too early in the sequence to function as a turning point.

The lead single, produced by Cardo, Yung Exclusive, Boi-1da, and 40, is still the album's cleanest and most efficient rap song. The beat is warm and understated, built on a piano loop and light percussion, and the hook is simple and sticky. The verse hits the same themes as the rest of Scorpion—success, enemies, women—but the melody and the pacing make it feel effortless. It debuted at number one on the Hot 100 and became one of Drake's biggest singles, and it deserved to. Hearing it as track five on a 25-track album, though, drains it of the impact it had as a standalone release.

Oogie Mane produces a jittery, skittish beat and Drake delivers a petulant hook about being upset. The verse is more of the same complaints about women and fake friends, and the track feels like a leftover from More Life. It was released as a single but it is one of the album's weakest rap tracks, lacking both the energy of Nonstop and the melodic polish of God's Plan.

Boi-1da, Sweet, and OB O'Brien flip a Detroit Emeralds sample and Drake builds the hook around rating his ex an eight out of ten. The punchline is as bad as it sounds, and the verse does nothing to justify the setup. The beat is fine, but the writing is lazy and the delivery is bored. Filler.

Boi-1da and Ritter produce a hard, minimal beat that interpolates Nas's Affirmative Action, and Drake delivers the A side's most locked-in performance, rapping with the kind of focus and pocket that used to be his baseline. The verse is still threats and brags, but the energy is higher and the flow is sharper. It was released as a single in January 2019 and it is one of the few Scorpion rap tracks that holds up on repeat listens.

ModMaxx produces a bouncy, percussive beat and Drake delivers a verse about critics and doubters. The writing is generic and the hook is forgettable. It is two minutes and 43 seconds of filler that could have been cut without anyone noticing.

DJ Premier co-produces with Maneesh, and the looped pianos and sharp drums are the album's closest approach to the boom-bap textures that grounded Take Care and Nothing Was the Same. Drake raps about his mother, Sandra, and his rise from underdog to dominance, and the verse has more specificity than most of the A side. Premier's influence is audible in the structure and the pocket, and the track is one of Scorpion's highlights. It should have been placed later in the sequence to function as a peak.

DJ Paul and TWhy Xclusive produce a menacing beat that samples N.W.A.'s Dopeman, and Jay-Z delivers a sharper, more focused verse than anything Drake does on the album. Drake's hook and verse are fine, but Jay outclasses him in every measure: writing, delivery, and presence. The track exposes how much Drake is coasting, because Jay is doing the same braggadocio rap but with more wit and more urgency. It is the album's only full guest verse, and it is the best verse on Scorpion.

Wallis Lane, Preme, and Rashad produce a track that interpolates Aaliyah's More Than a Woman, and Drake sings about loneliness and whether fame is worth the isolation. The production is sleek and the melody is smooth, but the writing is vague and the sentiment is one he has expressed on every album since Take Care. It is a transition into the B side's R&B mode, and it is neither strong enough to close the A side nor distinct enough to stand out on the B side.

40 produces a slow, ambient opener for the B side, and Drake sings about a woman and the complications of his schedule. The production is immaculate—reverb-heavy synths, muted drums, the kind of quiet storm atmosphere 40 has been perfecting since Nothing Was the Same—but the writing is thin and the melody is generic. It is beautiful background music, and that is the problem: it does not demand attention or justify its four-minute runtime.

40 and No I.D. produce another slow, moody track, this one built on a soul sample and sparse drums. Drake sings about a woman who is playing games, and the verse is more of the same relationship complaints that fill the B side. The production is gorgeous, but the song is interchangeable with Peak and Jaded, and three ambient R&B tracks in a row kills the pacing.

Cadastre produces a track with uncredited background vocals from Ty Dolla Sign, and Drake sings about a jaded ex. The melody is smooth and the production is clean, but the writing is vague and the sentiment is recycled. It is the third slow, moody R&B track in a row, and by this point the B side has settled into a monotonous drift.

Murda Beatz and Blaqnmild flip Lauryn Hill's Ex-Factor into a bright, percussive bounce track, and it is the B side's clear standout. The production is the opposite of the ambient drift that surrounds it—upbeat, rhythmic, built for movement—and Drake delivers a verse celebrating women who do not need men. Big Freedia and 5th Ward Weebie add New Orleans flavor to the vocals, and the track became the album's second number-one single. It is one of Scorpion's best songs, and it exposes how much stronger the album could have been if Drake had committed to variety instead of mood.

Cadastre produces a mid-tempo track with background vocals from James Fauntleroy, and Drake sings about a woman who is playing games. The writing is generic, the melody is forgettable, and the track disappears into the B side's sameness. Filler.

Boi-1da, Sweet, and D10 produce a track built on an Eddie Kendricks sample, and Drake sings a birthday message to a woman. It is a pointless interlude that adds nothing to the album and should have been cut.

Cadastre produces a track that samples Nicki Minaj's Boss, and Minaj appears on the track with concert vocals and background from DJ Boof. Drake sings about a woman who does not understand him, and the verse is indistinguishable from the other relationship complaints on the B side. The Minaj sample is the track's only distinguishing feature, and even that is not enough to make it memorable.

Supah Mario, Illmind, Taz Taylor, and JR Hitmaker produce a track with uncredited vocals from Future, and Drake sings about luxury and women. The production is sleek but the writing is empty, and the track goes nowhere. It is two minutes and 42 seconds of expensive-sounding filler.

TrapMoneyBenny, Blaqnmild, and 40 loop a New Orleans bounce beat and Drake sings about a woman named Kiki. The track became the album's biggest post-release single because of a viral dance challenge, not because the song itself does anything new. The City Girls add uncredited vocals, and the production is crisp and rhythmic, but the writing is thin and the melody is simple. It is a well-executed novelty track that became a cultural moment for reasons outside the music.

40 and Nineteen85 produce a track built around unreleased Michael Jackson vocals from 1983, and the result is eerie and beautiful. Jackson's voice is processed and layered over a minimal beat, and Drake sings a verse that is completely overshadowed by the sample. The Jackson vocals are the track's only reason to exist, and they make Drake's own singing sound thin and unnecessary. It is one of the album's stranger moments, a collaboration that feels more like grave-robbing than homage.

Capo, Shaun Harris, 40, and the posthumous Static Major produce one of the B side's better ballads, a slow, sultry track with Ty Dolla Sign on background vocals. The production is lush and the melody is smooth, and Static Major's uncredited presence adds a layer of tragedy to the track. It is a solid R&B song, but it is placed too late in the sequence—track eleven of thirteen—and by that point the B side has already lost momentum.

Boi-1da, 40, and Sweet produce a track built on a Dorothy Ashby harp sample, and Drake sings a verse with no hook and no structure. The production is pretty but the song has no payoff, and it feels like an unfinished sketch that made the final tracklist because the album needed more runtime. Filler.

T-Minus and Valle produce a skeletal beat, and Drake closes the album with a five-minute confession about fatherhood. He admits he has a son named Adonis with Sophie Brussaux, and the verse is his most vulnerable and honest writing since Nothing Was the Same. He talks about his fear of being an absent father, his discomfort with the public scrutiny, and his uncertainty about what kind of parent he will be. The beat is minimal—just a piano loop and light percussion—and the production gives the verse space to breathe. It is the only track on Scorpion where Drake sounds like he has something at stake, and it is the album's one essential song. The problem is that one moment of honesty does not redeem 80 minutes of autopilot.