The golden era of hip-hop gifted rap heads a woman MC like no other. When Kimberly “Lil’ Kim” Jones released her 1995 studio debut Hard Core, the culture had never seen or heard anything like the Brooklynite young Black women from around-the-way came to know and love.
Where predecessors like Queen Latifah took on the male-dominated industry of rap in the late ‘80s wearing afrocentric garb and demanding respect, Lil’ Kim was dripping in designer clothing telling us she would “rather count a million while you eat my p*ssy.”
A central figure in the company of Junior M.A.F.I.A. and the late Notorious B.I.G., Kim was at once trailblazing a path to sexual liberation and challenging the ethos of hip-hop music, forever altering the culture’s course.
Kim was bold, fearless and on all fours, single-handedly raising the bar for sexually explicit lyrics. Her carnal desires and demand for service were vividly illustrated in songs like “Dreams” and “How Many Licks”—landmark rhymes that were unapologetically and, oftentimes, hilariously filthy.
"Here's something I just can't understand/ If a guy have three girls then he's the man/ He can even give her some head, then sex her raw/ If a girl do the same, then she's a whore,” Kim rapped on Christina Aguilera’s feminist cut “Can’t Hold Us Down”, pointing to outdated double standards that continue to plague women today.
In honor of Lil’ Kim’s imminent I Am Hip Hop title at this year’s BET Hip Hop Awards, we present just a few of her songs and lyrics that speak to the core of Kimmy’s shamelessly feminist spirit.
Long live the Queen.
Rather count a million while you eat my p*ssy/ Push me to the limit, get my feelings in it/ Get me open while I'm cummin' down your throat/ Then, you wanna be my main squeeze, n*gga/ Don'tcha? You wanna lick between my knees, n*gga
Designer p*ssy, my sh*t come in flavors/ High-class taste n*ggas got to spend paper/ Lick it right the first time or you gotta do it over/ Like it's rehearsal for a Tootsie commercial
Gimme all the rhythm and blues singers/ Hen rock the shots of liquor, it makes me cum quicker/ Rub between your belly like jelly/ R. Kelly you think you ballin' but your body's callin'
I'm not the one you sleep wit', to eat quick/ Want a cheap trick, better go down to FreakNik/ You got to hit me off, buy this girl gifts of course/ So I look sick, in my six, with my Christian LaCroix
Ain't sh*t you can tell us/ Even got some of these n*ggas jealous/ But tonight ain't about the fellas/ Bvlgari perfume from a mile ya smell us/ Model agencies say it's easy to sell us/ We got sex appeal
When it come to sex don't test my skills/ Cause my head game have you head over heels/ Give a n*gga the chills, have him pay my bills/ Buy matchin Lambo's with the same color wheels
Bump Biggie in the trunk and the buck to my thorough b*tches/ Lemme see ya do the Bankhead if ya richest/ It's the rap Mae West, the Q-B/ And I got all my sisters with me
Could he come over right fast and f*ck my pretty ass?/ "I'll pass, n*gga, the d*ck was trash/ If sex was record sales you would be double glass/ The only way you seein' me is if you eatin' me/ Downtown, taste my love like Horace Brown
Bahamas in the spring, baby, it's a Big Momma thing/ Can't tell by the diamonds in my rings/ That's how many times I wanna cum, twenty-one/ And another one, and another one, and another one
Been the sex symbol since Jack B. Nimble/ You can never be me, you can only resemble/ Copped the presidential suites for weeks, ya'll just a day out/ One ass picture in a magazine, I gets a layout/ My n*gga gone now, so who writin' my rhymes?/ No disrespect, ya'll b*tches owe me publishing checks
(Photo by Gilbert Carrasquillo/Getty Images)