Photo: Christopher Polk/Billboard/Getty Images

The Will Smith image-rehabilitation tour ramped up over the weekend with the release of “You Can Make It,” a stormy gospel rap tune featuring Philadelphia singer-songwriter Fridayy (DJ Khaled’s “God Did,” Lil Baby’s “Forever”) and Ye’s Sunday Service. Arriving just weeks after Bad Boys: Ride or Die unveiled the dancehall-and-breakbeats Sean Paul collab “LIGHT EM UP,” “You Can Make It” signals Smith’s interest in releasing a new album somewhere on the horizon, his first since 2005’s Lost and Found. A live performance of the single provided the obligatory gospel pop at last night’s BET Awards, where Smith rapped atop scorched earth encircled by flames about overcoming nebulous trials and tribulations: “The harder the fall, the higher you soar / God opens a window when the devil closes the door / Believe me, they tried to bleed Will Smith / In the rearview, I see adversity was the gift.” The choir leaned over him offering words of motivation, and rain doused the flames as Kirk Franklin marched up to a stage beating back smoke with an orange glow, like sunlight dissolving cloud cover.

The sentiment echoed the introductory couplet of spiritual themes in “LIGHT EM UP”: “Back in this bitch like I never left / The devil came for me, shoulda wore a vest.” It sure sounds like Smith has been working on a gospel project touching on how he got over the disdain for smacking fire out of Chris Rock at the 2022 Academy Awards before claiming his first Best Actor trophy. It’s a confusing development since hooking off on heavyweights in your field at public events is largely considered a tremendous blunder unless your job is that of boxer or rapper. Smith, returning to business as the latter, could sell a collection of international club tracks, act like nothing regrettable happened, and cruise on the success of Bad Boys, hemmers and hawers be damned. But in a decade where his juicy 2021 memoir Will and Jada Pinkett Smith’s Red Table Talk show opened up about the inner workings of the now separated couple’s married life, a period of oversharing as praxis, the urge to broadcast spiritual and psychological growth and to braid art, wellness, and commerce abides.

“You Can Make It” is cloyingly motivational but also indistinct, a test ride with a time-worn song structure: Martial drums and mournful strings brace soaring voices as downcast, determined verses build to rousing choruses. It’s the kind of song people call John Legend for, the kind Eminem drops the equal opportunity offender shtick to deliver. The flows are manicured to the point of drawing attention to themselves; the front half trots out the plodding delivery of Em’s “The Way I Am,” while the back half as delivered on the BET Awards takes on a Jay-Z-ish air. (Respectfully, it remains a blast theorizing about Smith’s ghostwriters.) The message is meted out in personal trainer banter — “We all have a cross to bear / But there’s wisdom in the fire / And every moment is an opportunity / Embrace the journey” — that largely serves to remind listeners that Big Willie went Ali on Pookie and now needs to exude peace and quiet and bankability to potential business partners who might’ve gotten cold feet in the long tail of Oscar smacklash.

The wave hasn’t subsided yet. In a recent podcast episode, sports-talk veteran Stephen A. Smith voiced lingering outrage: “Somewhere along the way, he has to sit down and talk to the Black community.” Rob Schneider called the incident a “deep, dark thing” on Australian radio. “You Can Make It” addresses the ripple in Smith’s public perception where longtime fans are happy to continue supporting him but some still feel he needs to be brought low. It’s draining. It’s sour. Nobody wants this from Will Smith the rapper. How do you make nice with people who’ll never get over the sight of you losing it and hitting a guy in a country gripped by deep-seated fear of violent reprisal from its “dark things,” its Nat Turners of the mind? How do we stop this charm campaign from smothering us in “Doing great, no thanks to my haterrrs” type beats? The man made “Summertime.”