We Still Don’t Trust You by Metro Boomin and Future
When I tell you that We Still Don’t Trust You overstays its welcome like the last guest at a party who insists on sharing conspiracy theories, I’m not exaggerating. Future and Metro Boomin have teamed up once again to deliver what can only be described as an exhausting marathon of recycled ideas, bloated production, and half-hearted lyricism.
The album, clocking in at nearly 90 minutes across two discs, is a textbook example of quantity over quality. It feels like they threw everything at the wall in hopes that something—anything—would stick. Unfortunately, not much does. Future, once celebrated for his innovative trap sound and emotionally charged lyrics, seems to be phoning it in here. Tracks like “Luv Bad Bitches” and “Came to the Party” are so devoid of originality that they might as well be placeholders for his next Instagram caption.
Metro Boomin’s production is, as always, polished, but here it feels more like a high-gloss finish on an empty shell. Sure, there are moments when the beats flirt with something interesting—like the atmospheric opener “We Still Don’t Trust You” featuring The Weeknd—but the excitement quickly fades. By the time you hit “Mile High Memories,” you’re knee-deep in a sonic swamp of hazy synths and murky bass that blur into one long, indistinct stretch.
Future’s lyrics on this album oscillate between his usual brand of emotional detachment and straight-up laziness. On tracks like “Always Be My Fault” and “Gracious,” he delivers strained, melancholic lines, but the emotional depth of his early work feels absent. Instead, we get clunky bars like “Came to the party for the photos/show off my new outfit,” which are as insightful as a fortune cookie written by ChatGPT. Even the feature-heavy tracks fail to bring any real fire. J. Cole’s appearance on “Red Leather” is so sleepy that it makes you wonder if he recorded it between naps.
Ironically, the title track is the best thing on here, and that’s largely thanks to The Weeknd, whose signature haunting vocals elevate the song above the rest of the pack. But beyond this, the album feels like a never-ending parade of filler. The interlude “Amazing” offers some reprieve, but only because it’s mercifully short.
If We Still Don’t Trust You had been trimmed down to about half its length, we might be talking about a solid, if unspectacular, addition to the Future-Metro Boomin canon. Instead, the album meanders aimlessly, dragging listeners through a murky landscape of tracks that all bleed together. Disc two, in particular, feels like a leftover mixtape thrown in just to pad the runtime.
By the end of this bloated endeavor, I found myself longing for the leaner, more focused Future of the mid-2010s. The emotional resonance that used to make his work stand out is buried beneath a mountain of forgettable tracks, and any personal connection I might have had to the music was drowned out by sheer exhaustion.
This album might find a home with die-hard Future fans who are willing to sift through the monotony for a few gems, but for casual listeners, it’s a tough sell. If you’ve been a fan of Future’s previous work with Metro Boomin, you’ll recognize the same formulas here—just with diminishing returns. For everyone else, it’s a trap (pun intended) better avoided.
