Megan Thee Stallion’s status as a celebrity is not one to be messed with. Her uncanny ability to fill the roles of universally likable figure and Houston rap ambassador gives her a diverse range of fans, culminating in increasingly high expectations for each of her releases. “MEGAN,” her third studio album, is no slouch.
Despite these increasingly high expectations leading up to this album, Megan finds a way to remain in the same pocket that’s made her so successful for the past half-decade without boring her supporters. For the most part, her pen game, production and flows are as strong as always. The album starts off with a strong 1-2-3 punch with “HISS,” “Rattle” and “Figueroa.” The intro track, “HISS,” makes an album-defining statement in the first seconds: “I just wanna kick this shit off by sayin’ fuck y’all.” That boastful attitude remains a constant throughout most of the album — but she showcases it in a variety of ways.
After a strong start, “MEGAN” plateaus with a stretch of songs, starting with “Broke His Heart.” Backed by an, at best, lazy beat, Megan is at her most explicit sexually. Maybe the beat ruins the sentiment for me, but her unabashed confidence doesn’t hit the same here. “B.A.S.,” featuring Kyle Richh, is a marginal step-up as Megan returns to form.
But Richh’s feature is handily a contender for the worst feature of the year. His voice sounds like sandpaper, and I don’t believe anything he says. He contradicts himself more than once on his 40-second appearance: he starts off talking about love (albeit in an annoying, objectifying manner): “You look good to the world, but to me you is perfect / Big butt, need you to curve it / I’m in her body like I was a surgeon,” immediately followed up with an unnecessary attempt at a brag about his womanizing abilities: “Two twin thots in the back of the Challenger / And she mop bro cup like a janitor.” What is 40 seconds feels like two minutes. Give me a break.
Megan responds to this plateau by getting into her anime bag. Continuing her trademark braggadocious flow with an anime twist on “Otaku Hot Girl,” and “Mamushi,” Megan’s versatility comes to the forefront.
The better of the two tracks is “Mamushi,” however, featuring an endearing appearance from Japanese rapper Yuki Chiba. The chorus has already made its rounds on TikTok, and guest star Chiba gives the track new flavors to elevate Megan’s persona. While the chorus is the song’s selling point, there is one nitpicky piece of it that throws me off. “I get money I’m a star, star, star” is almost the perfect earworm, but Megan’s breaks to catch a breath between each “star” stand out to me more than the music itself. It almost sounds like she’s hyperventilating.
The following track, “Accent,” featuring GloRilla, sees Megan’s “hot girl” nature at its best. Megan and GloRilla’s chemistry is undeniable, and this isn’t the first time they’ve linked to create magic (see the “Wanna Be” remix). The track sees both rappers at their loosest, boasting their southern heritage and perfect bodies: “I’m thicker than my accent / And n***** love that shit / Pretendin’ he don’t understand me / So we can talk again / You don’t look as good as me / So, b*** don’t call me twin / Thought he was a city boy until he met a country b****.”
“Paper Together,” featuring UGK, continues the theme of honoring her Houston roots, as Megan eloquently states at the end: “Rest in peace to the motherfuckin’ legend, Pimp C / Often imitated, never duplicated / Highly appreciated / Please put some motherfuckin’ respect on Texas royalty.”
The final two tracks, however, take a lyrical and thematic turn. “Moody Girl” and “COBRA” see Megan in her introspective bag: “Real motherfuckin’ sad girl shit, ah” are the first words you hear in “Moody Girl.” And while this isn’t the Megan we usually see, it is a part of her I’d love to see more of.
She executes the dichotomy between hypersexualization and trauma to perfection on both tracks but especially on the album’s closer “COBRA.” Backed by spacey synths and menacing yet basic electric guitar, she sprinkles in wombo-combos of her trademark sexual prowess and shockingly depressing feelings with ease: “This pussy depressed, hmm, I’m about to stress him, yeah / Pink nails ‘round his neck, huh, but this ain’t domestic, aye.”
“MEGAN,” while presenting some of her lowest lows, also finds Megan expanding on her versatility as an artist while staying within the bounds of her comfort zone. It’s apparent that this album was a reintroduction to Megan Thee Stallion, and she certainly rapped like it. Irresistible bangers, newfound emotional honesty and several sonic and thematic explorations make for an all-over-the-place yet seamless listening experience.