On its face, “All Night” sounds like the banger from Coloring Book. The club track. The drinking song. You know, the hit. The one where we’re allowed to take a nip out of the flask in the back of the church and let the devil in—if only for a little while. And it is all those things: It would be blasphemous if “All Night” did not blare from stereos and cars and earbuds and boomboxes throughout America and beyond this summer. But it is also something of a Trojan horse, a listener-friendly song about not being friendly, a sober take on a tipsy free-for-all, a potential smash about the trappings of potential smashes.

As the beat thumps down at an inebriating tempo, Chance eyes the expanse of fame in front of him with an arched brow. He rebuffs would-be hangers-on. He gives opportunistic well-wishers the ice grill. He tells a drunk girl who farted in his passenger seat to take a jog. The horns and the hook say “come on in!” while Chance is all “stop right there!” In that sense, “All Night” could also be a stiff middle finger to the labels that have tried to schmooze Chance over the years, to rope him into their system, to take ownership over his art. The moral of this sly parable is clear: Chance will dance, but he won’t dance for you.

[Listen to “All Night” on Apple Music]