Money never sleeps, and on “L.O.A.T.” Veeze is especially restless. The song cleverly subverts typical boasts early on, with veeze sneering, “I’m tryna make her cut me off, told her I’m broke as hell.” But don’t let the tongue-in-cheek video (a Twitch stream where the commenters won’t stop spamming L’s in the chat) fool you – veeze is still an effortless shit-talker, grinning, “I pour up the drank with the floor seats and scream out a play to the coach.” The litany of flexes here build on Veeze’s steady drip of 2024 singles: his crew never gets patted down for guns; his car costs seven digits; he gave a woman a 1 of 1 hoodie just so peopel know she had sex with him.

Compared to the syrup-soaked psychedelia of Times“L.O.A.T.” sports an unassuming Detroit beat by frequent collaborator Rocaine, built around a piano that oscillates from ambient chords to jangling riffs that barrel downhill. Veeze’s demeanor here is as nonchalant as ever, but his raps corkscrew through the pocket more urgently than on last May’s somnambulant “Pop Yo Sh*t” or last July’s “F.A.F.,” so when he snarls, “Why don’t you go get you a bankroll? It’s better than fucking a hoe,” it’s less an e