Janice STFU — Tropical Soul Reconstruction

Drake's Billboard Hot 100 #3 hit, rebuilt as Tropical Soul. Every word of the original verbatim — now carried by steel pan melody, calypso skank guitar, warm Rhodes, and a smooth soul male vocalist with an effortless sun-soaked delivery. The defiant swagger of "Reach me, baby / call my phone and say you need me, baby" wrapped in golden-hour Caribbean warmth.

What happens when one of rap's sharpest self-mythologizers slows down, lets the steel pan carry his words, and a soul vocalist breathes the receipts out like a beach-side confession? The answer is Tropical Soul's sweetest contradiction: confrontational lyrics, the most laid-back groove on Earth.

[Intro] Emiliana, it's been so long since you texted me I finally took a break and now I feel like I'm on ecstasy You say what my work means to me will one day be the death of me They tried to kill me once, but, darling, you just resurrected me

[Chorus] Reach me, baby Call my phone and say you need me, baby I'm so green, you gotta teach me, baby From Vancouver, you a BC baby Pull up Maybach, beep-beep, baby And my shit came with the heat seats, baby Swear my label gotta free me, baby Blow on me just like some green tea, baby

[Verse 1] Buried alive, someone come dig me up If I call up your shawty right now, she pickin' up You boys got big off my name, that's big enough We know how you OGs rockin', the jig is up The truth will set you free, mine's gon' stream while you watch in HD Karma could take an eternity, yours is droppin' the same night as me They ain't gon' compete, you gon' get yours while I'm doin' me

[Chorus] Reach me, baby Call my phone and say you need me, baby Thought they had me in a deep sleep, baby I'm still scorchin' hot in these streets, baby Pull up Maybach, beep-beep, baby See-through shirt, I get a sneak peek, baby Blow on me just like some green tea, baby

[Verse 2] Tired of y'all tellin' me niggas is real, I know when it's real You only come home to pose and pop off a look, forgot how it feel Handin' out turkeys on camera in your hood, then you go back to the hills How many houses you build? How many souls did you heal? How many new names do you got on your will? Damn They tryna cover it up like a quilt 'Rari go skrrt on a boy like a kilt Kept it a hundred on paper like Wilt I made way too much in a week Must be two hundred and fifty at least Like the money just grew off a tree She just text me, Oui, oui, oui, oui We in Paris like two hundred deep And I went bought a whip for my brother Same body, but two different colors

[Outro] Ayy, Janice, shut the fuck up Ayy, ayy