Metro Boomin and Future's “We Don't Trust You” is solid but nothing special

From this writing, it's been over two days since Future and Metro Boomin dropped their first full-length collaboration, We Don't Trust You, and is almost completely overshadowed by a Kendrick Lamar cameo. The track he appears on, “Like That,” prominently features Rodney O and Joe Cooley's 1987 single “Everlasting Bass,” and Metro use it as Three 6 Mafia did throughout their discography, from “Where Da Bud At” to “Who the The crispest.” Thanks in part to the Mafia, “Everlasting Bass” has become an avatar of Jheri cruelty and an ominous allusion to crack-era lairs. Metro dials up the vibe while mixing with Michel'le's nursery rhymes from Eazy-E's “Eazy-Duz-It” to boot. “Muthafuck the Big 3/It's just big me!” charges Lamar, apparently calling out rivals Drake and J Cole as well as referencing Ice Cube's Big 3 basketball court.

The ripple effects of Lamar's “Like That” verse have galvanized rap fans, inspired tons of social media commentators on its references — shout-outs to E-40 and The Click, Melle Mel and Prince (“Nigga, Prince beat Mike Jack[son]”) — 6 God's beleaguered fan base to rally around, and led Drake himself to make a defensive, if vague, remark during a concert in Sunrise, Florida. Suddenly, it's 2013 again, with Lamar kicking over the Round Table like he once did on Big Sean's “Control.” But in 2024, the stakes seem much lower. Both Lamar and Drake are in their mid-30s, their aesthetic opposites firmly established. A decade ago, the two seemed representative of different paths mainstream rap could take. now, they just maintain empires. Any subsequent lyrical controversy, whether it's more about “sneak dissin” the two have been engaged for years or a full-on rap battle, it'll be more like Lebron vs. Curry in the play-in tournament, not the championship.

Thankfully, that can't be said for Metro Boomin, who has embraced maximalist, cinematic gestures at a time when the genre seems too niche, too reduced to TikTok clips and 15-minute EPs. Different Heroes and villainshis steady if frivolous effort since 2022; We Don't Trust You it doesn't come complete with Morgan Freeman as the voice of God. However, the St. Louis-born, Atlanta-based producer draws heavily from various passages of his a raucous fun Prodigy interview where the late Queensbridge rapper called out his competition. “We the professionals, son! We are professionals in what we do! Like, cut it out!” Prodigy roars in a clip placed at the beginning of “Claustrophobic.”

All of Metro's symphonic textures—the eerie tones of “Ice Attack,” the sampling of Mobb Deep's “Quiet Storm” in “Seen It All”—provide an opportunity for a compelling front man to weave magic. At this level, Future is only intermittently successful. The Atlanta rapper's polished, free-associative delivery doesn't naturally produce the kind of electric sparks that Lamar does on “Like That.” And unlike Playboi Carti, whose strangely hoarse delivery on “Type Shit” would continue to fuel the conversation surrounding his increasingly weird style, Future isn't attempting any major creative changes. We Don't Trust You. He remains a rapper-singer who grinds through the tracks as he conveys his reality of sensual pleasures and opiate-numbed insanity. Love it or hate it, it will give you plenty of bars to drink codeine and serve amphetamines. He might not rise to Toxic King levels here, but he's still got “those regular hoes/I've got superstar chops/Taking pictures like a Fed” on “Young Metro.”

Future serves as the eye at the center of the storm, as Metro orchestrates a whirlwind of old-school verisimilitude, appearances by the likes of Rick Ross and Travis Scott, and brash, post-platinum angst reminiscent of Missy Elliot's attack on her haters. Da Real World. The Atlanta rapper delivers a particularly strong chorus on “Running Out of Time” and bounces hard on “Fried (She a Vibe). But his appearances on tracks like “GTA” and “Ain't No Love” sound sad . We Don't Trust You it feels longer than its running time, despite several decent cuts. The album isn't bad: Metro remains a compelling producer and Future manages to hold his own despite his worn tics. But it only takes one Lamar verse to show what was missing from the game.