Equal parts a review of Megan Thee Stallion’s latest independently released tracks, and a commentary on the onslaught she has withstood for nearly four years. Bee finds “Cobra” and “Hiss” as perfect and bombastic declarations of return.
By Bee Roldan
TW: In the following commentary I will be making reference to instances of assault, physical and emotional abuse, as well as triggering concepts such as suicidal ideation and suicide-related imagery.
Note: Despite being aware of a certain rapper’s “response” track to "Hiss", I will not be addressing this in the following piece.
"Hiss" Music Video via Youtube / photo: Hot Girl Productions
On February 15, 1995 Megan Thee Stallion was born Megan Jovon Ruth Pete, to Holly Thomas and Joseph Pete Jr. Astrologically, it puts her sun sign at Aquarius and most likely, it means her moon is in Leo. To many, her sun alone marked her as a person bound to have an unconventional and eclectic path in life. To me, it heralded the arrival of a juggernaut. A revolutionary. Near the beginning of her season, on January 26 of this year, the rapper released “Hiss”. Under the same banner of her previous release, “Cobra”, the project is a return to her independence- literally. Fully self-funded and under her own label, Hot Girl Productions, before one can even consider the content of the singles, you have to admire the maverick quality of the woman.
In February of 2020 Megan filed a suit against her record label 1501, notorious amongst fans for being the possible reason the could–have-been-legendary Hype Williams-directed Fever: Thee Movie was never released. Fever and the restrictive and taxing way which 1501 and the label’s president Carl Crawford dealt with Megan gave her no other option. Frustrated with her contract’s shifty album quota and the lack of return on her personal investments, she took them to court. Now consider this: in the same year just four months before she would release her debut, Good News, she was the victim of assault by Tory Lanez. In a despicable act of violence, the rapper, who is currently behind bars for the next 10 years, shot Megan in the foot. The ensuing media frenzy and stan wars over her credibility were the secondary acts of violence. Reflecting on the culture in an op-ed for The New York Times, the rapper noted progressives' constant reliance on Black women, who at the time were “expected once again to deliver victory for Democratic candidates.” And that despite the stability of society resting on their backs, the US has shown nothing but contempt for the community “in so many areas of life.” Even the nuance of police violence in relation to Tory and Megan’s initial defense of him exposes a rot at the core of American society. In a social media statement she admitted her initial lie to the police was motivated out of fear of losing her life, and later on added that she had desired to protect the Black man— part of a group disregarded and disrespected in tandem.
We know now the resolutions of these arduous legal battles. The work released in between them, is unique for its oft-twerkulator-aspirational peppiness. Good News and For Thee Hotties are stacked with hits: collabs with SZA and the City Girls, and spitfire moments like “Megan’s Piano”. The albums corral the controversy of her persona and address the loser quality of her haters. They revel in her sexuality, and mostly serve a wider audience. They were a way for Megan to save face and protect her image; protect her legacy. It’s hard to go from being the same rapper renowned for singing about fucking in the mirror, and calling her pussy a kitchen to the one now fighting to defend her integrity.
There’s a couple lines on “Last Week in H Tx”, from her first EP, where she reflects on memories of the past: “Every motherfuckin' night, I was eatin' cheese eggs (Okay)/ Bitches tell stories 'cause these whores don't know me (Don't know me)” and “Uh-oh, I ain't never ran from a ho (Ran from a ho) / But I never let a bitch get a stain on my clothes (No-oh).” This was the organic and photorealistic work that brought so many into her world. Her raunchiness and her truthfulness won us over to the side of someone who was never one to walk around whores and cheese eggs. With the explosion of success and the oversaturation of her art, as a part of a possible strategy to fulfill her album quotas to get out of her contract, this fell away just slightly.
Megan Thee Stallion performing “Anxiety” on SNL / photo: Saturday Night Live
The third of her releases, Traumazine, was an attempt at addressing this. It was welcomed not because it was better, but because the raunch poetry was pushed away for more diaristic pieces. In “Anxiety”, nestled in between an earnest but radio friendly chorus, Megan’s “letter to heaven” verse to her mother was instantly monumental. It resonated in an album that already had a tone of vengeance, and coupled with “Plan B” it made the case for Megan’s return to form. And specifically, an embrace of a battle rapper mantle, weary from the despicable commentary and distrust, and ready to name all of those who betrayed her. Commercial aspirations still had to be tended to, however, and the oddest part of the album is its ending on “Sweetest Pie”. When you're pushed around in so many directions, the full truth in album form is hard to deliver without bumming people out. Even Traumazine, despite its edge, was something of a compromise. “Cobra” and “Hiss'' are not.
The rawness of “Hiss” is actually revelatory. Tired of serving the desires of the public, and having to embrace the narrative we want from victims— an infinite supply of inhuman humility and grace— it takes the name of her original rap game back. Built on a simply sinister piano and a spare beat, the production facilitates some of her most lethal bars of all time. From the high, “All of you bitches is weak on the Bible” to the low, “Aye, these hoes don’t be mad at Megan / These hoes mad at Megan’s Law”, she takes an unrelenting approach. If her lyricism doesn't hold back then her stamina, a rarely commented-on aspect of Megan’s craft, keeps her floating like Ali. Matching each verse's tone to a new flow and speed, she stalks and hunts much like the serpent she references in the title. The whole rap is about toying with her prey, who as she notes have only found notoriety through association to her.
It’s the delivery of a line like “I’m the Teflon Don in the courtroom,” that quite frankly… makes a bitch realize they’re pan. That assertion, that dominance— it shatters her victimhood and replaces it with that of a survivor, and a warrior. This time, the surviving is for herself. It resurrects the concepts of her early works where she conceived of personas like Tina Snow for herself, avatars to facilitate her conquest of the world. It also just goes to show that there's so much fun to be had when you win. And why not reflect on men who “hate on BBLs” but “be walking around with the same scars.” When the truth slips out from your mouth with a sneer and another incoming volley, who could ever deny you the champion’s throne? Who could ever deny you when you declare “You know motherfucking well these bitches wanna sound like Tina.”
“Hiss” works because of its triumphant quality, but there’s a brilliance to its predecessor, “Cobra”. Working with a gritty rock production, an arcade-game sounding synth, and a guitar riff that will haunt your nightmares, “Cobra” is the acknowledgement of the modern hero epic that has been her life thus far. It reaps her sadness not for anthemic effect, but for honesty’s sake. She recounts desires of suicide and the vile betrayal of a man who slept with someone in the same bed she once laid in. And of her work, it’s the most centered on her experience of trauma, rarely flipping around to twerk like so many of her other songs, which balance play with rage. Instead, one of my favorite moments in music in the past year is the moment she catapults into the bar “How long you been worried ‘bout me telling people / that’s not me?” A rare display of vocalized rage for the icy cool rapper, the Aquarius above the fray, in charge of it all from afar, when she yells out “how long.” Because really, how fucking dare he rely on her silence. Bank on the empathy within her, just to disrespect her. It’s this guttural part that unites delivery with pen with a slashing guitar axe-ing her enemies and it just sends tremors rocketing through you to the interior of your bones.
"Cobra" music video via Youtube / photo: Hot Girl Productions
“Cobra” really honors the low points she has been brought to by those around her and in the media, and reflects on the resulting inner turmoil. Only when she talks about “pink nails ‘round his neck, huh / but this ain’t domestic” do we see the old jokey demeanor of Thee Stallion, and even then the back end of the verse reminds people of the history of abuse towards Black women, and the violence she did not encourage but was on the receiving end of. This line is the crux of her work, because it reflects our constant need for victims to make light of their struggles and attempt transcension after they are robbed of their dignity. She makes a sexual metaphor of the present but does not let us forget the past, and lodges the image of her self-empowerment and the risks it poses to her safety despite not hurting anyone.
“Cobra” is a great primer for “Hiss” because it acknowledges the rapper will never be the same. She has lost countless loved ones, has had to work to maintain integrity that should have never been taken from her, still has to rap to make money, and fuck… is she still in school? But if “Cobra” announced her return to the ring, “Hiss” proves the colossal effect of her absence: the Champion’s Belt, long resting on the unworthy, finally returned to the waist it was modeled for. “Hiss” reckons with this return but has no intention of displaying effort. Like always, this shit was easy for Megan. That ease and that precision might get obstructed by the rest of the world, but as long as she has a mic nearby the gladiator that is Megan Thee Stallion, the people’s champion, will never go down without a fucking fight.
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