Lipstick Killer doesn’t rap like someone looking for permission. She raps like someone who’s been sharpening her blade in the shadows for years and is finally swinging at full force. Her new single “Delaware Ave” is the first glimpse into Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1, and it arrives as a storm—messy, angry, and absolutely alive.
The Kansas City rapper isn’t interested in being boxed in by labels, least of all the “female rapper” tag. In conversation, she makes it clear that she grew up competing with the boys, both on the court and in the cypher, and that energy carries into her delivery. Every bar on “Delaware Ave” is wired with rage, but it’s a rage that’s carefully channeled—her metaphors hit with precision, her flow steady even while the subject matter burns.
The song is less about catharsis than confrontation. It was born from betrayal, written in a haze of cigarettes and heartbreak, as she puts it. But what makes it powerful is how she flips that raw pain into something energizing. You can hear her lifting herself up with each line, forcing a listener to reconsider their own thresholds for self-respect. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t just vent—it demands you stand taller after hearing it.
Her upcoming project carries the same duality as its title. Cigarettes & Heartbreak will be split into two volumes, with the first steeped in the sting of loss and anger, and the second leaning into the messiness of love. That structure says a lot about where Lipstick Killer is headed: she isn’t interested in a clean narrative arc or an easy redemption story. She wants to give listeners the jagged edges, the contradictions, the nights spent chain-smoking on the patio and the mornings spent clawing back confidence.
She speaks with reverence for the women who cleared the way—Queen Latifah’s strength, Missy Elliott’s innovation, Lauryn Hill’s soul, Nicki Minaj’s dominance. That lineage is obvious in her approach, but what makes Lipstick Killer stand out is how she’s positioning herself in today’s climate. In an era when women in rap are finally commanding space and soundtracking the party, she’s bringing back something rawer: the unvarnished fury that hip-hop has always thrived on.
There’s a sense that Lipstick Killer isn’t looking for sympathy. She’s looking for recognition of the scars, and for a chance to turn them into music that can stand next to anyone’s. “Delaware Ave” is the sound of someone refusing to be defined by pain, instead reshaping it into armor. If this is the opening shot of Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1, the rest of the project could be her breakout moment.
