Beyoncé is a black woman artist making black art for black women. She is not stealing from black culture or appropriating. She is not touching her toes in the stream of the various elements that encompass American blackness. No, she is creating work that speaks to an audience that might not receive the sort of mainstream, visually and sonically-enticing wisdom that Bey has perfected. This reality has never been more evident than on “Formation,” her latest off-kilter, even downright weird trap track, which dropped on Saturday afternoon.

Mike WiLL Made-It's production perfectly underlines each of Bey’s lyrics. The unnerving synth highlights each snap of a phrase (“I like my negro nose with Jackson 5 nostrils” and “I like my baby’s hair with baby hair and an Afro”) like a yellow highlighter, marking the bits and pieces of the song one will refer to when examining the Beyoncé canon as a whole. Like a low rumbling siren that never truly crests to a final loud blare, the song bounces just under the surface. This effect returns as Bey repeats that first verse—"My daddy Alabama/ Momma Louisiana"—as if to make sure listeners are considering the content. It’s a fun song, yes, but it’s also an important one. Never forget that.

This doesn’t feel like a fluke. It is on Bey’s most instrumentally-dense and trend-forward productions (with a strong pull to the trap genre of her native Houston) that Bey most explicitly speaks to her fans. Consider “Flawless,” the spine-tingling centerpiece of her self-titled album, which served a similar purpose, speaking directly to her female listeners (and centering herself alongside them). On “Flawless,” we were given an anthem that prioritized power—“I woke up like this” was not just a boast. It was also a declaration that one’s independence, spirit, and strength derives from birth. It is a natural process and quality, one that arises inherently rather than being nurtured over time. It was no surprise, too, that “Flawless” included a snippet of a speech from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie on feminism; Beyoncé instilled in us wisdom and confidence. She is a queen, but also a mother, a sage in a pop music field severely lacking in perspective.

“Formation” expands on this narrative thread, encompassing a truer definition of Beyoncé: the artist. She references her “negro nose,” Blue’s baby hair and Afro, the Illuminati and the outright power of gaming and simultaneously overcoming the oppressions of capitalism. “I might get your song played on the radio station,” she says, centering her power in making the careers of others. Later, she says, “I go hard, Take what’s mine, cause I slay.”

This follows in one of the most singular and important tenets of Bey-losophy. We heard this as early as “Bills, Bills, Bills,” and “Independent Women (Part I)” with Destiny’s Child. Power is built and cultivated and yes, it is even a tangible thing one can acquire. “OK, ladies now let’s get in formation," she adds at the end. "You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation. Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper." As long as we live in this world with these systems, the best manner of disrupting, of surviving, of taking what’s yours is using the same methods they might have used on you. For Beyoncé (and for her listeners, too), the unapologetic embracing of oneself and the power one can harness when making a name, livelihood, and legacy can’t ever be ignored or taken for granted.