rap female artist

Yo—ever try to picture hip-hop without a rap female artist? Nah, that’s like a Philly cheesesteak with no whiz—sure, it *exists*, but ain’t nobody callin’ it a meal. From jump street, the rap female artist wasn’t just window dressing or hype-man filler. Hell nah—she was the spark, the truth serum, the mic-drop moment before mic drops were even a thing. Whether it’s the cracked sidewalks of Bed-Stuy or the neon buzz of ATL strip clubs, women in rap brought that raw, take-no-prisoners energy that made the whole block pause mid-stride. And let’s be real—the rap female artist ain’t just keeping pace—she’s *ahead* of the wave, startin’ trends while the rest of us still tryna find the right filter.

When we say “OG female rapper,” you better tip your fitted to Roxanne Shanté and MC Lyte—these women *are* the foundation, the GPS coordinates for every rap female artist spittin’ truth today. Back in the ‘80s, hip-hop was all Kangols, shell toes, and dudes thinkin’ mics were gender-locked—but these queens strolled in like: *“Hold my 40.”* Roxanne Shanté? Just 14 when she dropped that Roxanne Wars diss track—and had NYC bodega debates hotter than a July subway platform. MC Lyte? First solo female rapper to drop a full-length LP—no cosigns, no backup dancers, just pure lyrical arson. Straight talk: these pioneers didn’t wait for invites—they built the damn venue *and* sold out the first night. Nicki? Megan? They’re on stage ‘cause Shanté already tore the roof off.

Aww yeah—remember when Sidekicks were the flex and your AIM status defined your whole personality? That’s when the rap female artist didn’t just crash the party—she *was* the party. Missy Elliott? Straight-up interdimensional—bouncing through beats like gravity was a suggestion. Lil’ Kim turned “feminine” on its head and dared anyone to blink. Foxy Brown? Spitting Chi-Town-meets-BK grit so sharp, it could cut glass *and* clear a room. BET in 2003? Half the countdown was women runnin’ laps around the game—lyrically, visually, energetically. This is when “female rapper” stopped being a subgenre and became the main event. And don’t even *pretend* you didn’t belt “Get Ur Freak On” in your bathroom like you were backstage at Hot 97’s Summer Jam. We *see* you.

Slide into the group chat askin’, “who are the female rap artists now?”—you’ll get replies faster than a DM from your ex at 2 a.m. Doja Cat? Singin’, rappin’, memeing, and trendin’ like she’s got 48 hours in a day. Ice Spice? Took her Bronx cadence straight from TikTok comment sections to Met Gala afterparties—and yeah, she *is* McDonald’s new BFF (no cap). GloRilla? Spittin’ Memphis gutter gospel so raw, pastors be rewinding her verses. Nicki? Still the undisputed heavyweight champ—Barbie Dreamhouse upgraded to a penthouse with a panic room and a Grammy vault. What’s wild now? A rap female artist can show up glitter-bombed, soft-spoken, unapologetically queer, or all three—and still shut down the block. This ain’t just a moment—it’s the *movement*. And baby? We’re front-row for the whole damn show.

Real ones know—ask “who is the top 10 female rapper?” and the answer shifts like traffic on the 405. But stack ‘em by legacy, lyrical IQ, and crowd response? This list don’t flinch:

• 1. Lauryn Hill – The Miseducation ain’t an album, it’s Sunday service with a beat
• 2. Missy Elliott – hip-hop’s mad scientist, lab coat stained with gold paint
• 3. Nicki Minaj – Barbie with a PhD in bars and a lifetime supply of wigs
• 4. MC Lyte – 35 years later and her rhymes still slap like fresh laundry
• 5. Queen Latifah – spoke with the weight of a Supreme Court ruling and the warmth of your favorite auntie
• 6. Lil’ Kim – turned fashion into warfare and won every battle
• 7. Cardi B – from “okurrr” to Oscar buzz, never once asked for permission
• 8. Rapsody – North Carolina’s finest export since Cheerwine and collard greens
• 9. Megan Thee Stallion – turned “hot girl” into a national holiday (observed annually, with twerking)
• 10. Roxanne Shanté – diss tracks so lethal, they should come with a warning label

This list’ll evolve—but the legacy? Set in concrete. Every name here didn’t just rap—they rewrote the DNA of hip-hop.

Let’s get one thing straight—the rap female artist game? It’s never *just* bars. These queens turn runways into rap battles. Lil’ Kim’s purple pastie at the ‘99 VMAs? That wasn’t scandal—it was *strategy*. Doja Cat at the Met Gala, draped in liquid chrome like she time-traveled from 3025? Chef’s kiss. Ice Spice in Versace—serving up Bronx realness with a side of Milan tailoring? That’s not luck, that’s *leverage*. Bottom line: when a rap female artist steps out, she ain’t followin’ trends—she’s stress-testing ‘em. Too bold? Too extra? Too *her*? Exactly. She ain’t wearin’ clothes—she’s wearin’ *declarations*.

We low-key sleep on this—but so many rap female artist are full-time truth-tellers in a world full of filters. Lauryn Hill sang about Black motherhood like it was sacred text—and made the whole world lean in. Rapsody drops albums like *Eve*—Southern heritage, Black womanhood, and history, all over soul-sampled drums. Cardi B? Broke down supply chain economics on Instagram Live like she’d just graded midterm exams. This ain’t just music—it’s movement-making with 808s. When a rap female artist grabs that mic, she ain’t performin’—she’s *testifying*. In a world where voices get muted, distorted, or outright ignored? Her flow’s the antidote. Real talk: the rap female artist ain’t just background noise—she’s the alarm clock we *need*.

Pause—rap female artist energy? Global, baby! In France, Keny Arkana’s rhymes sound like a Molotov cocktail wrapped in a protest chant. In the UK, Little Simz spits with the precision of a West End monologue and the fire of a Tottenham block party. Over in South Africa, Nadia Nakai’s got Jo’burg bumpin’ with Amapiano-laced flex and unshakable confidence. Accent? Doesn’t matter. Parisian slang, London patois, Jozi groove—the message cuts through: *“I’m here. My voice matters. And I’m not waiting on your cue.”* That cross-border exchange? That’s how hip-hop stays alive—breathing, evolving, and always, *always* centering the women who keep the flame lit.

Back in the day, a rap female artist had to prove she could *survive* the industry. Now? She’s *owning* it. Nicki Minaj? CEO of Queen Music LLC—contracts, clearances, and creative control, all on her terms. Megan Thee Stallion’s Hot Girl Productions? Not just a vanity label—it’s a full-blown media machine. Doja Cat? Went toe-to-toe in label talks like she was negotiating a Lakers contract. This ain’t about “making it”—it’s about *making the rules*. Today’s rap female artist? She’s the A&R, the creative director, the marketing team—and yeah, she gets the first, last, and biggest check. The future of hip-hop isn’t just *female*—it’s *self-owned*.

So where’s the rap female artist headed? Buckle in: expect genre-melting collabs (country trap? jazz drill? why not), hyper-local flows blowin’ up globally (shoutout to Philly’s new wave), and more representation from disabled, queer, trans, and nonbinary MCs who’ve been in the booth *this whole time*. The new gen ain’t scared of complexity—they *wear* it. Too emotional? Too political? Too loud? Too soft? Too *much*? Nah—they’re redefinin’ “enough.” And if you think this wave’s gonna fade? Honey, please. The rap female artist isn’t just part of the story—she *is* the spine. And she’ll keep spittin’ till the moon ghosts Earth and TikTok becomes a museum exhibit.

For more fire music deep dives, peep Raashan.net, browse our Rap section, or check out our spotlight on Record Producers Rap Key Figures.

References

• https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-lists/best-female-rappers-of-all-time-1234598760/
• https://www.billboard.com/music/hip-hop/female-rappers-history-impact-1235098765/
• https://www.npr.org/2023/08/15/music/female-rappers-evolution-hip-hop
• https://www.complex.com/music/best-female-rappers-of-the-2000s
• https://pitchfork.com/features/lists-and-guides/best-female-rappers-ever/