From Beyoncé’s interwoven Renaissance and Cowboy Carter albums to Ye and Ty Dolla $ign’s still(?)-unfurling Vultures trilogy, 2024 is undoubtedly the year of the franchise album.
Although sequels and spin-offs have gotten a fairly bad rap lately thanks to Hollywood’s recent production proclivities (looking at you, Marvel!), franchises can be fun! After all, they’re supposed to be: the innate familiarity of a few grounding themes, motifs or characters provides the foundation for a level of exploration that standalone titles cannot offer. What makes franchises fall flat on both film screens and record players, however, is aimless retreading of the same ground as the first installment. Enter Future & Metro Boomin’s We Still Don’t Like You.
Initially revealed within the announcement of their Billboard 200-topping We Don’t Trust You album, We Still Don’t Trust You arrives as a sequel to what is already one of the most impactful LPs of 2024. Even outside of its culture-shifting collaborations with Rick Ross and Kendrick Lamar, March’s We Don’t Trust You triumphed because it’s a remarkably consistent effort across all 17 tracks. With a bonus mixtape added as a second disc, We Still Don’t Trust You boasts an overwhelming 25 tracks – and that disregard for both brevity and quality control results in a record that’s particularly frustrating, due to how avoidable its shortcomings are.
As is the case with so many of these records with gargantuan tracklists, there’s a good album buried somewhere inside of We Still Don’t Trust You. With some help from The Weeknd on the sparkly opener, Still immediately situates itself in a different, yet adjacent, sonic lane to that of its predecessor. Doused in Dawn FM-esque synths and a sexy bassline, “We Still Don’t Trust You” appears to signal a more pop- and R&B-facing Future – that fans would have likely embraced — in comparison to the straight rap he opted for on We Don’t Trust You. Nonetheless, the album largely abandons that path almost as quickly as it first teases it.
In a way, the record’s second and third tracks – the hedonistic Chris Brown-assisted “Drink N Dance” and the fiery “Out of My Hands” — are emblematic of the two divergent paths the album tries to simultaneously wind its way around. The former finds Future and Metro shifting the subject of their distrust – this time they’re more concerned with disloyal lovers instead of Drizzy Drake – while the latter finds them doubling down on the blows from their last album. “Ain’t goin’ against my mans to f—k on his b—h, I’m gon’ f—k up these bands/ Got too many options, they meet my demand, my team, we done spinned/ You went against the gang, you read what I’m saying, it’s out of my hands,” he spits.
Ultimately, the duo don’t commit to the R&B bent that grants the album the majority of its standout moments, nor do they fully shift who they’re no longer trusting. Instead, the album is overstuffed with misses that lack the urgency and verve of those on We Don’t Trust You. “Jealous,” “Came to the Party” and “Mile High Memories” are all fine tracks and welcome additions to the Future-Metro cannon, but more forgettable numbers like “Luv Bad B—s” and “Overload” tend to simply float by, leaving no lasting impression at all. When you’re working within the self-imposed confines of a franchise, forgettable simply does not cut it. Because their partnership is so golden, Future and Metro aren’t really capable of making bad songs, but when their complacency starts to show and they then fall into the quantity-over-quality trap, however, the returns are unfortunately underwhelming. Some of these tracks don’t even have enough sauce to function as victory laps.
The last time Future put out new albums in such quick succession was 2017. With Future and Hndrxx – which made joint history with their back-to-back No. 1 debuts on the Billboard 200 – Future offered up one rap tape and one R&B tape, catering to both sides of his sonic profile and the different pockets of his fanbase. If We Don’t Trust You runs parallel to Future, then We Still Don’t Trust You finds its Hndrxx similarities in standout tracks like “Right 4 You.” Through an interpolation of Boyz II Men’s seminal “End of the Road,” Pluto delivers his take on a grandiose power ballad with drums that echo the electronic feel of late-2010s dancehall. There’s also the Weeknd-featuring “All to Myself,” which is built around a sample of The Isley Brothers’ 1996 gem “Let’s Lay Together.” Here, Future and Metro infuse a beloved soul track with their singular stream-of-consciousness trap balladry. With a focus on emotional betrayal that bridges the seemingly disparate styles of the duo’s own music and the samples they build upon, “All to Myself” and “Right 4 You” are the symbols of the album We Still Don’t Trust You had the potential to be.
Still does eventually find its way back to its synthy beginnings, but that moment is robbed of its full-circle feel because of how bloated the record is. The electro-pop echoes return on “Beat It” and blossom on “Always Be My Fault” — which features another winning guest appearance from The Weeknd – but the album exhausts its welcome by the time they appear. Of course, J. Cole appears on disc one closer “Red Leather,” with a verse in which he laments not following Future’s womanizing lead before pondering if it’s really worth his “peace.” While he flows as deftly as ever, the verse withers in the shadow of last week’s Lamar apology and exit from the Big Everyone battle. What is interesting, however, is how the verse’s thorny analysis of personal growth echoes the sentiments Cole expressed in his explanation of why he couldn’t stand by “7 Minute Drill.”
For the six tracks that comprise disc two of We Still Don’t Trust You, Future cedes the floor to Breakfast Club host Charlamagne tha God, who, despite his generally problematic history, proclaims some hard truths. “It’s not a Big Three, it is a Fantastic Four,” he says via an old radio discussion. “And Future is in that.” Predictably, the subsequent tracks find Future stepping back into the braggadocious straight rap bag of We Don’t Trust You, tapping Lil Baby (“All My Life”) and A$AP Rocky (“Show of Hands”) as guest stars. While the Rocky collaboration contained the most buzzed-about disses to come from the sequel set (“N—as in they feelings over women, what, you hurt or somethin’? / I smash before you birthed, son, Flacko hit it first, son”), it’s “Crossed Out,” with its rage rap-esque synths and pristine production, that stands out as the best of the bunch.
With over 40 new tracks from Future and Metro Boomin in under a month, it’s hard to shed a tear over the missteps on We Still Don’t Trust You. Nonetheless, both hip-hop titans have proven themselves to be more than capable of curating truly transformative album experiences, so this offering is disappointingly flaccid. Marred by sloppy sequencing and desperately in need of some fat-trimming, We Still Don’t Trust You is a fine playlist for the ride back home from the club – once you decode all the s–t-stirring drama the set has to offer, you won’t be listening that intently anyways.
