Ayo, let’s dive into Victoria Monét’s joint “Alright,” where she’s flexing on an experience that’s all too familiar in the game of modern love and relationships. Right from the jump, the song slaps us with an unapologetic declaration of independence. Monét ain’t the one to get twisted over a dude who thinks he’s the be-all and end-all just because they shared a bed. Her vibe? She’s feeling herself, and no man’s about to anchor her down or cloud her shine.
Now let’s break it down, bar for bar. “He gave me some dick in bed, Now he think his dick is embedded”—sis is keeping it a buck with us, saying just because they hooked up, this cat believes he’s got a permanent spot in her life. That’s a negative. She’s straight up ghosting his texts, putting him on blast that she’s seen his message but it’s not even worth her time. Victoria’s essence here is about empowerment—she’s calling the shots, and she’s not here for his ego trip. This is all about flipping the script on that hook-up culture.
When she’s talking about making “niggas feel a way,” she’s highlighting her power to leave these dudes in their feelings, all twisted up, simply because she’s not playing by their rules. “Might not even hit you when I’m in your city” is her throwing shade like it’s sunny, telling him not to hold his breath for a sequel. And when it comes to “Thought you was about to get some foreplay with me? You won’t even get a picture of these 4K titties,” Monét is bringing heat, saying that this guy’s not only cut off from the physical but he can’t even fantasize on it—she’s got him blacklisted.
The hook, “I’m gon’ be on my shit tonight, No one on my hip tonight” is all about Victoria doing her and doing it big, unattached and unbothered, living her best life. She’s strutting into the night with that energy that everything’s “Alright,” fully liberated and in control. The repeated affirmations of “Alright” serve as her mantra—she’s good, regardless of any drama or nonsense that’s trying to kill her vibe.
Then, Monét flips the narrative in “Once he think he touched my soul, I’ll be back out here solo.” She’s schooling these fellas that catching feels or thinking they’ve got her locked down is a rookie mistake. She’s her own woman—always has been, always will be. Dudes might resort to calling her out of her name, labeling her a “ho,” but she’s reclaiming that noise, redefining it as “immortal.” It’s a powerful re-up, turning disrespect into a testament of her enduring spirit and unshakable confidence.
As the song closes with the vibes of “Tonight, tonight, tonight,” the repetition’s like a chant, a spell being cast for a night that’s promised to pop off in pure bliss. Each “Alright” is a brick in the fortress of her self-assured kingdom. Victoria Monét ain’t asking for permission or seeking validation. She’s telling us, with every note, that she’s her own woman, owning her pleasure, her choices, and her peace. And that’s the gospel according to Monét—preached, choir! Mic drop.