Friends

The looseness here is the point. Built on a bright, almost cartoonishly playful synth riff, this unit track between Jimin and V moves like two old friends crashing into each other in a hallway — full of in-jokes, physical ease, and the specific electricity of people who genuinely like each other. The production is deliberately unserious: handclaps, a bouncy bass pulse, horn stabs that feel borrowed from a retro variety show. Both vocalists lean into a conversational delivery rather than showcasing technical range, trading lines with the casual rhythm of actual conversation. Lyrically, it maps the geography of a decade-long friendship — the shared embarrassments, the growing-up moments, the stubborn loyalty that survives all of it. What makes it land is the specificity: this does not sound like a generic friendship anthem but like two particular people celebrating their particular bond. It belongs to the joyful, self-aware corner of the Map of the Soul: 7 rollout, a deliberate palate cleanser from the album's heavier introspective work. Play it when you are driving somewhere with your oldest friend, windows down, neither of you needing to explain anything to the other.