Justin Bieber let SWAG II loose on 5 September 2025 after a brief midnight hiccup, and the pink-washed sequel lands like daylight after July’s moodier SWAG: still tactile R&B at its core, but brighter, more plainly pop-tilted, and threaded with vows, faith, and fatherhood.
Twenty-three new songs, the same inner-circle spine (Dijon, mk.gee, Carter Lang, Dylan Wiggins, Daniel Chetrit), and a handful of features that actually change the room (Tems, Bakar, Hurricane Chris, Lil B, Eddie Benjamin) make this feel like a deliberate second chapter, not a bolt-on deluxe.
The facts and the tone, the surprise drop, the 23-track run, the family-first framing set the tone, and you can hear the shift the second it starts.
He opens with intent. “SPEED DEMON” races out with dry drums and close-to-the-chest bass, flipping speculation into propulsion and setting a record-long habit: keep the voice tucked inside the band and let motion tell the story.
“BETTER MAN” narrows the lens to the day-to-day, proximity changed him; responsibility keeps him, and the guitars shadow the melody like a second narrator.
“LOVE SONG” becomes the pop centre, a meta write about trying to make one Hailey will sing back; the chords stay humble so the hook can breathe, which tracks with first-day rundowns that flagged it as a peak.
“I DO” extends that promise language without ceremony, sung like something you say at a kitchen table rather than from a stage, and multiple outlets already tie it to the marriage-and-family thread that defines the sequel’s heart.
“I THINK YOU’RE SPECIAL,” with Tems warming the low mids, builds admiration as steadiness, while “MOTHER IN YOU” becomes the fatherhood keystone, soft-focus acoustic bones, and the awe of watching your partner as a parent.
Together, these early moves map the album’s reset: vows refurbished, faith braided through daily life, melody brightened without sanding off the room-mic intimacy that anchored SWAG.
The middle stretch loosens its collar in ways that prove the palette can lift without hollowing out. “WITCHYA” slides in with a sly bounce that resets your ears for “EYE CANDY,” a glossy flirt that keeps the drums dry so the sugar rush doesn’t cloy; the vocal dips into MJ-coded shapes while the guitars stay tactile enough to hold it in the SWAG universe.
“DON’T WANNA” is the deliberate left turn: bass movement with a late-80s tilt, reverb-gated drums, and Bakar’s rasp fraying Bieber’s clean line just enough to spark debate.
First-wave coverage singled it out precisely because it feels like an identity swerve inside a very warm record.
“BAD HONEY” plays like a light-in-the-room single that never begs for it; conversational hook, playful pocket, and it’s no accident Hailey boosted it on socials the morning the album hit.
“NEED IT” runs lean and hook-first, a mover that will quietly amass plays because it’s immediate and infinitely replayable; early ranked lists pushed it near the front of the pack for exactly that reason.
“OH MAN” keeps shoulders loose as connective tissue before the tape takes its hardest swerve.
That jolt is “POPPIN’ MY S***.” The 808s finally step forward, hi-hats are joyful, not hostile, and a rap-sing flex lands precisely because so much of SWAG II plays it tender; Hurricane Chris arrives as the unexpected cameo that changes the air without breaking the spell.
“ALL THE WAY” clicks back to clean pop-R&B, ghost handclaps, rubbery subs, harmonies stacked inside the groove, and “PETTING ZOO” reads like a domestic vignette more than a punchline song, letting friction live without turning sour, which lines up with press noting how he folds past bumps into present-tense commitment.
“MOVING FAST” earns its title, drums and guitar chase each other while the topline floats, a passenger-seat road song that picks the album up after the mid-album exhale.
“SAFE SPACE” uses Lil B as presence more than performance, pastoral cadence, protection as blueprint, and Bieber softens into a lullaby register that makes sense for a new father writing out loud.
“LYIN’” scratches the itch for something terser, consonants a little prickly, drums popping like bubble-wrap, just before the sequence glides into the reflective last run.
“DOTTED LINE” is the quick sketch that early listeners and a few critics are already circling as undercooked; you can hear the bones of a great melody that never quite gets the arrangement it deserves.
Yet it sets up “OPEN UP YOUR HEART,” where Eddie Benjamin plays foil rather than garnish; his timbre gives the bridge a second lift and the chord choices crack the windows without sermonising.
“WHEN IT’S OVER” is the reckoning that stays tender; the hard questions are asked plainly, and the band carries the colour, a penultimate comedown that makes the finale feel earned.
“EVERYTHING HALLELUJAH” runs a gratitude roll-call; names, mercies, small blessings pointing straight to “STORY OF GOD,” an extended spoken-word retelling of Eden over airy synths that reframes the album you just heard as testimony rather than genre exercise.
Wire copy and quick-turn reviews locked onto that scope immediately, casting the closer as the spiritual statement that binds the vows, the baby-monitor calm, and the morning-light pop.
The era visuals are why the domestic tone doesn’t feel like posture. “Yukon,” shot by Cole Bennett on 16mm with Hailey and their son Jack, mostly kept private, is a family diary, ocean light, yacht decks, slow dance, hands in frame rather than faces, and “First Place,” directed by Rory Kramer in Iceland, swaps yachts for mountains and studio takes in monochrome.
Together, they sell the same idea from different angles: home life and craft as the real flex, which is exactly why the fatherhood and vow songs on SWAG II feel earned when they arrive.
Pitchfork logs the basics, the 23 tracks, the returning production cast, the guests, and calls the sequel brighter, with faith moving closer to the surface; People and other mainstream desks underline the marriage-and-fatherhood throughline, quoting specific lines and pointing readers toward “Better Man,” “Love Song,” “I Do,” “Everything Hallelujah,” and “Mother in You.”
Forbes frames the release as a quick, intentional follow-up that builds on a reset rather than a simple reissue.
Even where fans split, some prefer the scrappier shadows of SWAG; others are happy to live in the blush, the conversation keeps circling the same core: he made a companion piece on purpose.
As a complete listen, SWAG II works best when it stays small, kitchen-table promises, beach-light gratitude, dad-awe, and lets the band-room tactility carry the feeling.
“SPEED DEMON,” “LOVE SONG,” “DON’T WANNA,” “POPPIN’ MY S***,” “MOTHER IN YOU,” “NEED IT,” “OPEN UP YOUR HEART,” and “WHEN IT’S OVER” sketch the arc from motion to sanctuary to testimony; “EYE CANDY” and “PETTING ZOO” humanise the middle.
“STORY OF GOD” zooms out to name the thing directly. If SWAG was dusk, SWAG II is morning, less shadow, more blush, and even where the seams show, the ease of the best moments feels like something he hasn’t worn in years.
And if you’re scoreboard-minded, yes: the 23-track sweep is already being ranked and debated in public, which is exactly where a record like this should live.
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