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Drake's May 15 visual onslaught — 15 videos for Iceman and three for Habibti — mixes extravagance with experiments. From anime monsters in 'Make Them Pay' to a warehouse arson in 'Make Them Know', the batch reveals what Drake prioritizes when music becomes image.

When an artist drops three albums on the same day, the visuals become less an afterthought and more a sheet of paper that holds the story together. May 15 felt like that for Drake: alongside the sprawling, cold-blooded textures of Iceman and the more intimate R&B palette of Habibti came a flood of music videos that try to pin down what it means to be both omnipotent and oddly fragile in 2026.
There are the expected images of wealth and retaliation, sure. But there are also moments that feel like experiments — cartoon violence, interrupted domesticity, and a handful of cinematic choices that suggest Drake cares about how these tracks look as much as how they sound. Some of the best clips do the work of translation: they turn mood into an image and allow a single prop, gesture, or location to carry a song’s weight.
Speaking to the director behind one of the standout pieces, Theo Skudra, he framed the animated ‘Make Them Pay’ as an attempt to make Drake exist inside an imagined city that could be more myth than geography. ‘I wanted the whole thing to feel like a hyperreal day-in-the-life, where even mundane actions carry threat,’ Skudra said. ‘The monsters are loud, but they almost function as a chorus. You get to see a version of Drake who keeps going no matter what is thrown at him.’ The sequence where an anime-styled Drake steps off a subway and keeps walking while chaos erupts around him is oddly calming and unsettling at once.
‘We were trying to shock people with scale without losing sight of intimacy. That glove in Make Them Know was an idea that came up late — a reference piece and a prop that could read as reverence or provocation, depending on how you shot it.’ The director’s answer landed somewhere between defense and wink, which is exactly the tone a lot of these visuals aim for.
Elsewhere, the videos bring back props that have been in Drake’s visual lexicon before: luxury cars, night-lit mansions, groups of men who look like they are always three steps away from a disagreement. ‘Ran To Atlanta’ is almost pyrotechnic in its materiality — a procession of SUVs, camera angles that linger on chrome, and two features who play the track like a map of old alliances. ‘Janice STFU’ puts Drake in front of cherry red Ferraris and a royal blue Porsche and feels almost performance-art about the fact of flaunting.
Not every clip is about flash. The ‘Make Them Know’ visual uses a single, violent action — setting fire to a warehouse full of bots — and lets the image ripple outward. Given the timing and Drake’s ongoing legal dispute with UMG, it reads like more than spectacle. It reads like a gesture aimed at the machinery behind streaming numbers, an accusation staged as cinema. Watching the smoke curl around Drake’s silhouette while he wears a crystal-studded glove — a clear nod to Michael Jackson’s costume history — the moment felt both theatrical and pointed.
The results across the board are uneven but rarely boring. Some tracks get visuals that are serviceable, the kind you remember for a line or two; others become little short films. The animated ‘Make Them Pay’ stands out because it refracts Drake’s usual tropes through a new medium and finds humor in the macabre. The more straightforward pieces land when they let a single idea breathe for the length of the song.
Below is a ranking of all 18 videos from Iceman and Habibti, ordered from least to most compulsively watchable. The list is opinionated: some clips earn their place through novelty, others through pure bravado.
There is a practical truth in releasing this many videos at once: not every idea will land, but the sheer volume forces us to treat Drake as an auteur of mood more than just a rapper with good marketing. Some clips read like replies to ongoing narratives around him; others exist as little visual jokes or flexes. Together they map a moment in his career where he is both summing up and experimenting.
Speaking to the larger picture, it is worth noting how these videos expand the albums’ identities. Iceman is chilly and combative; Habibti is closer and softer. The visuals lean into those temperatures and occasionally collapse them into single images: a burning warehouse becomes both accusation and catharsis, an animated city becomes both playground and battleground.
Not every viewer will agree with the ordering here. But if nothing else, Drake’s video rollout is a reminder that in a saturated culture, commitment to an image can still startle. A glove, a CGI monster, a line of SUVs, a single hand on a Ferrari hood — small things that, strung together, make the albums feel like events rather than just releases.
‘I wanted the visuals to act like punctuation,’ the director added. ‘Some exclamation points, some commas. They should stop you, or let you breathe. If a shot makes you replay the song to see if you missed something, then we did our job.’
Whether fans will revisit these clips in five years or file them under the moment they came out remains to be seen. For now, they are the latest layer in Drake’s long-running project: making popular mood look specific.