Quarter Million in Her Pocket, No Regrets

Nicki Minaj is one of those artists whose name I can now spell correctly without checking—which, for me, is when someone crosses from awareness into genuine relevance. She dropped two new tracks: Chun-Li and Barbie Tingz. The first one has a video.

Not much effort went into it. Shot vertical, in portrait mode like a Snapchat story, she raps lying on a couch in a hotel corridor in a leather outfit, tits out, pushing toward the camera. That’s the whole thing. But elaborate music videos are apparently a legacy format now—since TikTok and its predecessors took over, all you need is a phone and a face. Point it at yourself. Done. I resent this sometimes. Other times I think: maybe the song just has to be good enough that it doesn’t need anything else propping it up.

Chun-Li more or less carries itself. The lyrics aren’t subtle—these birds copy every word, every inch, but I got the hammer and the wrench, pocketing the full quarter million; now she wants to be my friend like I’ve forgotten everything; showing off my diamonds, won’t push out his babies until he buys me the ring—but there’s something honest in that brazenness. The long memory. The refusal to be gracious. It’s not poetry. It’s armor with a decent beat underneath it, and honestly that’s enough.