Solo unfolds like a late-night voicemail that Rauw Alejandro and Jay Menez never got to send. Over a smooth, urban beat, the Puerto Rican duo confess how empty the room feels without the heat of a former lover. Memories of steamy encounters, fast cars and neon-lit parties flood their minds, yet every flashback ends in the same stark reality: they woke up drunk and alone. The word solo is hammered home in the chorus, turning the dance floor into a place of raw regret.
The verses jump between sensual nostalgia and painful honesty. We hear about broken promises, sleepless nights and a desperate search for something—anything—that can erase her from their thoughts. Even expensive champagne and club lights cannot drown the guilt. In the end, the song is both a confession and a warning: when passion is real but commitment fails, all that remains is an echo of “me quedé solo,” a bittersweet reminder that love can burn bright and still leave you in the dark.