Justin Bieber did something he hadn’t done in over four years On July 11, 2025: he released an album. But the album that arrived on that Friday, a 21-track, hour-long behemoth titled SWAG, was not the triumphant pop comeback the world had been conditioned to expect. It wasn’t Purpose II. It wasn’t a collection of stadium-ready, “Sorry”-style bangers. There was no calculated, chart-topping lead single.
Instead, what the world received was a surprise-dropped “passion project.” SWAG is a sprawling, lo-fi R&B diary, a hazy, and atmospheric look into the psyche of the 31-year-old superstar as he grapples with the trinity that now defines his life: his marriage to Hailey Bieber, his new role as a father, and his suffocating, lifelong war with his own fame.
Featuring a guest list so chaotic it reads like a fever dream—from R&B darling Dijon and rap’s “BasedGod” Lil B to the controversial Sexyy Red and, most bizarrely, comedian Druski (three times!)—the album is a commercial and artistic rebellion. It’s an intimate, unfiltered, and deeply indulgent record that has left fans, critics, and the industry at large profoundly divided.
To some, SWAG is a “bloated,” “unfinished,” and “cringe-worthy” hard-drive dump of mumbly demos. To others, it is a “raw,” “vulnerable,” and “artistically courageous” masterpiece—the sound of an artist finally unchaining himself from the pop machine that built him. This is not just an album; it’s a 21-page-long therapy-session-turned-mixtape. This is the definitive deep-dive into SWAG, the album that saw Justin Bieber the pop-star die, leaving just “Justin” in his place.
The ‘SWAG’ Manifesto: A Sonic Rebellion
The first and most jarring thing about SWAG is its sound. This is not the clean, high-sheen pop of his 2021 album, Justice. This is R&Bieber, a persona fans have craved since his 2013 cult-classic mixtape Journals, finally brought to its ultimate, art-house conclusion. If Journals was the prophecy, SWAG is the fulfillment.
The album is a “vibe.” It’s a “mood.” It’s a “late-night drive through Malibu” record. The production is a direct rejection of Top 40 radio. It’s lush, atmospheric, and intentionally experimental. The fingerprints of indie darlings Dijon (who is also a featured artist) and producer Mk.gee are all over this record, giving it a hazy, “anti-radio” texture. Think washed-out synths, minimalist drum patterns, reverb-drenched guitar loops, and a tape-hiss-like quality that makes the entire project feel like it was recorded in a fog.
This sonic direction is the album’s first great divide. The lack of “bangers” is a deliberate choice, a defiant act from an artist who, for the first time in his career (notably after his professional split from longtime manager Scooter Braun), is operating without a map and without a “hit-maker” mandate.
Critical reception has been, expectedly, split down the middle.
A review from a Fader-style publication praised this direction: “Bieber has finally made his Blonde. SWAG is a record that values mood over hooks, an impressionistic painting of his isolated life of fame. The influence of collaborators like Dijon isn’t just a feature; it’s the entire canvas. He’s successfully traded stadium-pop for bedroom-soul, and in doing so, has created his most interesting, if challenging, work to date.”
A more traditional, Pitchfork-style review was less kind: “The album mistakes ‘vibe’ for ‘substance.’ It’s a 21-track-long Instagram filter, a ‘passion project’ that feels more like a hard drive dump of unfinished, mumbled demos. The ‘lo-fi’ sound comes across not as an artistic choice, but as a lazy one, a convenient shield for songs that are, at their core, hollow and repetitive. He wants the critical acclaim of Frank Ocean without doing any of the lyrical or sonic work.”
The fanbase is, if anything, even more divided. On the r/JUSTINBIEBER subreddit, you can see the civil war playing out in real-time. “TRUE BELIEBERS HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR RNBIEBER SINCE 2013. THIS IS JOURNALS 2, 3, AND 4,” one top comment reads. “HE’S FREE. HE’S MAKING MUSIC FOR HIMSELF. HE’S HAPPY. 10/10.”
Just below it, another fan laments: “I’m on track 8 and I’ve fallen asleep twice. I miss the ‘Sorry’ bangers. What is this? Christian mall music?? It’s just… boring. 21 songs of this?? I’m so disappointed.”
The Guest List: A Baffling Study in Chaos
If the sound of SWAG is a “vibe,” the feature list is pure “mayhem.” It feels curated not by a label, but by a 3 a.m. scroll through Instagram, a baffling mix of the sacred, the profane, and the straight-up “cringe.”
The Druski Debacle: A “Cringe” Trinity
The most universally panned, deeply uncomfortable, and frankly bizarre aspect of SWAG is the inclusion of three separate skits featuring comedian and internet personality Druski. These interludes—“SOULFUL,” “THERAPY SESSION,” and “STANDING ON BUSINESS”—have been called “unbearable,” “weird,” and “a new low” by fans and critics alike.
1. “SOULFUL” (Skit) The first skit, a 36-second intro to the R&B-heavy part of the album, is perhaps the most offensive. Druski is heard, presumably in the studio, gassing Bieber up:
Druski: “Y’all can’t tell me… You kinda sound Black on this motherf**ker, man. I’m just sayin’!” Justin: (Laughs) “C’mon, man…” Druski: “No, I’m for real, bro. Your soul is Black. Your skin white, but your soul Black, Justin, I promise you, man.”
The reaction online was immediate and visceral. “Bieber just set race relations back 10 years with that Druski skit,” one viral tweet read. Another fan wrote, “WHO APPROVED THIS?? This is the ‘I have a Black friend’ pass in audio form. It’s wildly uncomfortable and racially tone-deaf. Delete it. NOW.” The skit, meant to be a “funny” co-sign of Bieber’s R&B credentials, came off as sycophantic, dated, and profoundly “cringe-worthy.”
2. “THERAPY SESSION” (Skit) This 1-minute-and-18-second skit is, by far, the most important and frustrating moment on the entire album. It is the record’s lyrical and thematic core, a moment of “radical vulnerability” that is immediately betrayed. The track is a raw, unedited recording of a real conversation.
Justin: (Voice is low, serious, and raw) “That’s been a tough thing for me recently. Feelin’ like, you know, I have had to go through a lot of my struggles as a human… really publicly. And so… people are always askin’ if I’m okay and that starts to really weigh on me. It starts to make me feel like I’m the one with issues and everyone else is perfect, you know?”
This is the entire album’s thesis—a direct meta-commentary on the paparazzi photos of him crying, the endless “Is Justin OK?” think-pieces, and the “Sad Bieber” memes. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered honesty. And then, Druski responds:
Druski: “Bro… you know what you need? You start smokin’ these Black & Milds with me, bro, you gon’ feel way better. You ever had a jazz tip?”
The tonal whiplash is staggering. Listeners are given a raw confession of mental anguish, only to have it met with a joke about cheap cigars. Is it a defense mechanism? A joke to cut the tension? Or just Druski being Druski? Whatever the intent, the effect is “bizarre” and “disrespectful,” as one fan put it. “Justin just bared his soul, and his ‘friend’ told him to smoke a Black & Mild. This is the saddest track on the album for all the wrong reasons.”
3. “STANDING ON BUSINESS” (Skit) The final, 50-second skit is Bieber co-opting the AAVE meme, “standin’ on business.” It’s another attempt to borrow “swag” from internet culture via Druski. It feels inauthentic, a “hall of mirrors of ‘fellow kids’ energy,” as one critic wrote. “It’s a 31-year-old father trying to talk like a 19-year-old TikTokker.”
The Controversial Collabs: Sexyy Red and Lil B
If the skits were the “cringe,” these features are the “chaos.”
1. “SWEET SPOT” (ft. Sexyy Red) This is the album’s most controversial track. The song itself is a “total vibe”—a silky-smooth, ’90s-style R&B slow jam, a perfect “baby-making” song with one of Justin’s best vocal performances. Fans were loving it… until the 1:45 mark.
Fan 1 (Reddit): “Justin’s part is a 10/10. It’s ‘Come and Get It’ level. I was ascending. And then… the Sexyy Red verse hits. It’s a sonic car crash. She’s not just off-beat; she’s in another time zone.” Fan 2 (Reddit): “She RUINED it. Her raw, ‘skee-yee’ energy is the exact opposite of the song’s vibe. It doesn’t flow. It’s like putting a monster truck rally in the middle of a ballet. This was a #1 hit, now it’s an immediate skip.”
But a vocal minority defended the choice, with one user arguing, “No, you don’t get it, the chaos is the point. It’s like an ODB feature on a Mariah song. It’s art. It’s not supposed to be clean.”
2. “DADZ LOVE” (ft. Lil B) For fans of underground rap, seeing “Lil B” on the tracklist was a “fever dream.” Lil B, the “BasedGod,” is a pioneer of internet rap and “based” philosophy. This is a “deep cut” collab for the “terminally online” fan. The song itself, however, is almost aggressively simple. It’s a 2-minute-and-25-second loop where Justin and Lil B just… repeat the title.
Critic (The Guardian): “It’s an inane celebration of Bieber’s nascent fatherhood that essentially just repeats the title into meaninglessness. It’s a sweet sentiment, but it’s not a song.”
But for fans on r/hiphopheads, the quality was secondary to the “iconic” moment. “Bieber x BasedGod is not something I had on my 2025 bingo card,” one wrote. “This is the ultimate expression of the album’s theme: a ‘meme’ artist and a ‘pop’ artist making a deadly serious, simple song about fatherhood. It’s ‘Based’ in its purest form.”
A Lyrical Autopsy: The 21-Page Diary
At its core, SWAG is a lyrical diary of the last four years of Justin Bieber’s life. It’s a sprawling, 21-track-long confession. To analyze it, we have to group its tracks by his three core obsessions: his marriage, his new role as a father, and his mental health.
Theme 1: The Hailey Chronicles (Marriage Under the Microscope)
Despite relentless online rumors of their demise, this album is a definitive, public love letter to his wife, Hailey Bieber.
- “DAISIES”: This is not a simple “I love you” song. This is a song about love despite the noise. When he sings, “Throwin’ petals like, ‘Do you love me or not?’ / Head is spinnin’, and it don’t know when to stop,” he’s directly referencing the “Jelena” vs. “Jailey” comments, the “Selena” chants he’s heard at his own concerts, the endless TikToks analyzing their every move. He’s admitting the noise gets to him, and their love is something they have to actively protect.
- “WALKING AWAY”: This is the direct answer to “DAISIES” and the divorce rumors. It’s a “staying” anthem. He sings about their arguments—”And, girl, we better stop before we say some shit / We’ve been testing our patience”—before hitting the core promise in the chorus: “Baby, I ain’t walking away / You were my diamond / Gave you a ring.” It’s a public reassurance, a defiant “anti-‘Love Yourself'” for his wife.
- “GO BABY”: This is his “Gen-Z” power couple anthem, a song that directly addresses the hate Hailey receives online. He confirms her icon status with the hyper-specific, 2025-timestamped lyric: “That’s my baby, she’s iconic, iPhone case, lip gloss on it.” It’s a clear reference to her viral Rhode phone case. He’s not just loving her; he’s loving her business.
- “405” & “ZUMA HOUSE”: These are the “sense of place” songs, the “mood board” tracks that feel most produced by the Dijon/Mk.gee camp. “Stuck on the 405, thinkin’ ’bout your eyes,” he mumbles on one. “ZUMA HOUSE” is a 1-minute-and-23-second acoustic sketch that feels like an interlude about their Malibu life. These tracks show his new lyrical mode: less narrative, more impressionistic feeling.
Theme 2: The New Father (The “DADZ LOVE” Era)
This is Bieber’s first album as a father to his son, Jack, and that role provides the album’s emotional anchor.
- “FIRST PLACE”: This upbeat track is a declaration of his new priorities. He sings about who truly comes “first place” in his life—his family. But it’s also laced with his mental health struggles, containing one of the album’s most powerful and quoted lines: “You can’t spread your wings in a bird cage.” Fans and critics see this as a powerful double meaning: the “bird cage” of his own mind, but also the “bird cage” of the pop-star machine he’s been in since he was 13. His son is the reason to finally break free.
- “GLORY VOICE MEMO”: At 1 minute and 24 seconds, this is the rawest moment on the record. It’s not a song. It’s a literal iPhone voice memo, staticky and unproduced, of Justin “wailing out to God” and “begging for mercy.” It’s uncomfortably intimate. Fans are deeply divided. “This is the realest thing he’s ever recorded,” one wrote. Another countered, “Why is this on a $12.99 album? This is for his pastor, not for me.”
- “DEVOTION” (ft. Dijon): This is the intersection of his love for his wife and his newfound domesticity. It’s a portrait of Married Bieber. “Stay up late and watch your favorite show / Roll some weed and cuddle up real close / If you call out to me, I’ll swing, leave the door open for me.” It’s a quiet, tender song about simply choosing to be present.
Theme 3: The Ghost in the Machine (Fame, Mental Health, and Paparazzi)
The album is haunted by the pressures of fame, which provides the context for his new life.
- “ALL I CAN TAKE”: The album opener. This ’80s R&B track is the Rosetta Stone for the entire album. He sings: “These symptoms of my sensitivity / Feels personal when no one’s listening.” This is the context for the “THERAPY SESSION” skit. He’s telling us he’s at his limit. Critics have noted the Michael Jackson-esque vocals, but the “hauntological” R&B groove is a “cry for help wrapped in a slick package.”
- “BUTTERFLIES”: This is his “Piece of Me” (Britney). The song literally samples a viral clip of one of his infamous paparazzi confrontations, where he is heard screaming, “You just want money! Money money money money!” Over this, he pleads, “Butterflies, go away.” The “butterflies” aren’t love; they’re the paparazzi, the “anxiety” in his stomach. He’s “slippin’ away” from the fame, from the public character of “Justin Bieber.”
- “YUKON”: This is the ultimate “If You Know, You Know” track. For casual listeners, it’s a vibey song about a car. But for die-hard “Jailey” fans, the “Yukon” is a sacred Easter egg: the specific GMC SUV Hailey drove when they rekindled their relationship in 2018. This is the new Bieber: writing hyper-specific lyrics for his core fans, and no longer caring if the general public gets the reference.
The Title and The Closer: ‘SWAG’ and ‘FORGIVENESS’
The album’s title and its final track are perhaps its most telling artistic statements.
“SWAG” (ft. Cash Cobain & Eddie Benjamin): He reclaims the word that defined his teenage-brat persona. But this title track is not a 2012 “swag” song. It’s a “sexy drill” track, a co-sign from one of New York’s hottest and most “underground” producers, Cash Cobain. By featuring Cobain, Bieber isn’t just “on trend”; he’s curating the trend. He’s reclaiming the word “swag” not as an adjective (“swaggerific”), but as an inherent “vibe” he possesses and shares.
“FORGIVENESS” (ft. Marvin Winans): This is the most brilliant and subversive choice on the entire record. The album ends with a 90-second gospel song performed by someone else. Justin Bieber is not on the final track of his own album. After 20 tracks of anxiety, messy love, chaotic features, and public confessions, the answer he provides isn’t in himself. It’s in God. He’s giving the “last word” to his faith. It’s a “mic drop” of humility, a full stop. It’s the real answer to the “THERAPY SESSION” skit and the “ALL I CAN TAKE” opener. The album is a long, dark night, and this song is the “church service” the next morning.
Conclusion: The Final Verdict on the ‘SWAG’ Era
*SWAG* is not an album to be casually “liked.” It’s too long, too messy, and too self-indulgent for that. It demands to be dealt with.
As a pop album, it is an abject failure. There are no singles, no hooks, no “Belieber”-screaming moments. But as a confessional album, as a raw piece of art, it is a staggering, if flawed, masterpiece.
It’s “bloated” and “repetitive” because, as the album argues, so is healing. So is marriage. So is being a new father. So is processing 15 years of trauma in the public eye.
With SWAG, Justin Bieber finally did what he’s been threatening to do for a decade: he killed “Justin Bieber,” the pop-star product. In his place, he’s left us with the messy, contradictory, frustrating, faithful, and deeply human “Justin.” It’s not the album we wanted, but it’s the album he needed to make.