B.A.P.S (short for ““Black American Princesses”) was a 1997 comedy starring Halle Berry and the late Natalie Desselle as two working-class women from Georgia who luck their way into the world of the Beverly Hills elite. Dismissed by critics at the time as “tacky” and “abysmally awful,” and accused of playing into “ghetto” stereotypes of Black women, the film was later embraced as an inept but endearing cult classic. 2001 saw the publication of The BAP Handbook: The Official Guide to the Black American Princess, a tongue-in-cheek guide to the BAP lifestyle written by a group of Black professional “upper class” women. They listed rules like “NEVER date a man with a press and curl” (a reference to Berry’s boyfriend in the movie) and “NEVER wear gold teeth.” Houston rapper Monaleo was born the year The BAP Handbook came out, and on her new album, Who Did the Body, she’s refashioning the concept in her own image — breaking some rules, honoring others, and making up a few new ones of her own as she goes.
“Sexy Soulaan/Black American Princess/I’m probably posted in the crib lighting incense,” she raps on “Sexy Soulaan,” presenting the album’s thesis statement. The song’s throwback West Coast feel is simplistic, but it’s the perfect backing for her anthemic line “All the non-blacks to the back!” Monaleo spits out cultural and spiritual knowledge: “I’m sweeping these bitches they want to spit on the broom,” she raps. If some readers of this review aren’t sure what that means, that’s fine — as she warns, “If you ain’t Black stay the fuck out the business.”
While that might sound confrontational, the 12-track project is also the most vulnerable work she’s done. Who Did the Body comes off the heels of her recent “all pink” marriage to rapper Stunna 4 Vegas (who, in compliance with the BAP Handbook, does not have a press and curl). Although Monaleo has been making strides in the industry in the past few years, including the successful rollout of her 2023 debut album, Where the Flowers Don’t Die, her livestreamed wedding saw her gain a new and different kind of exposure. Her bridal party went viral for the prayers and affirmations the couple wrote on bayleaves that were put into a cinnamon broom handmade by Monaleo’s grandmother. That tradition, rooted in the Black American custom of “jumping the broom,” sparked discourse online regarding the rapper’s spiritual connections. In Black American culture, the broom represents a duality, warding off spirits but also attracting blessings. These customs are referenced throughout Who Did the Body, especially in the single “Sexy Soulaan,” which dropped exactly a week after Monaleo said “I do.”
From its title to its closing song, “We on Dat, (OG Mix)” featuring Houston giants Bun B, Paul Wall, and Lil’ Keke, Who Did the Body feels like a meetup with cousins to celebrate life, both its past and present. The album opens strongly with “Life After Death,” where Monaleo poses questions like “Life after death, is it lit or not?” and “Is there a heaven for a pimp?” — calling back to the classic 2005 movie Hustle & Flow.
“Open the Gates,” is pure ancestral veneration in verse, with Monaleo blending the concepts of her Christian and Black American spiritual roots together in roughly two minutes. “No way in hell I could’ve been Eve/I would’ve skinned that snake,” she sings-raps. “I would’ve made me a purse with the serpent/ It wouldn’t have went that way.” As she chants “Open the Gates,” she calls out the names of her deceased friends: Darren, Yonna, Xaven, and the late rapper Enchanting, who died last June. In an X post on the record’s release day, Monaleo tweeted, “Erykah Badu once said there are 2 death experiences. The first death happens when the heart stops beating and the brain stops working. The 2nd death happens the last time somebody speaks your name.”
“Freak Show,” featuring Lizzo, is a sexy and light (albeit punchy) jam where Monaleo rhymes “Bun B,” with “Sunday.” Each artist brings a different texture. Leo pulls no punches as Lizzo matches her intensity in a whisper. “Tamron Hall” is a love letter to Leo’s brother and cousin. The track doesn’t reach two minutes, but it’s a standout with the wisdom it packs in lines like “You can get high fast and burn out the gas, then where the hell you gon’ go?” Her singing ability is further confirmed in “Locked In,” where her background of singing in her church’s youth choir is refined and on full display.
On “Bigger than Big,” Monaleo juxtaposes the sacred and secular — an element of Black music that goes back to the blues — sampling gospel artist Byron Cages’ 2003 hit “The Presence of the Lord Is Here.” Combining obscene lyrics (“He wanna see these big ol’ tits”) and further affirmations of her confidence (“Ain’t nothing bigger than my program”), the song shows us that it’s safe to say that she credits her success and transformation to the God she serves. Yet its pairing of the sample and lyrics doesn’t quite work as well in practice as in theory. Though Leo’s lyrics are raw and scribed with vigor and delivered with a backing choir that breaks down into soprano, alto, and tenor vibrato, the track feels too theatric and out of step sonically with the rest of the album.
Where “Bigger Than Big,” lacks cohesiveness, “Spare Change,” locks into it. Monaleo switches her hardcore flow to an Eighties-rap cadence over spare hi-hats, blending early LL Cool J and a Rakim flow with Slick Rick storytelling mastery, as she depicts addiction and grief, as well as the viewpoints of those society classifies as “bums.” The moral of its story is that becoming a stereotype can lead to someone’s demise, especially for Black women who are left vulnerable and unprotected when their community falls apart. The theme of transformation and death is paired with vivid storytelling on “Dignified,” as she raps about the dangers of drunk driving, using herself as a fictional character in the story.
Yet it’s “Diary of an OG” that really exposes the vulnerability of Monaleo. Its title plays off of her tough, brolic persona, but it’s truly soft in its meaning: She vents about being an oldest daughter and wanting more out of life outside of being the caretaker of her family. It’s a sentiment that many Black women and girls can resonate with, having been the anchors for many and for too long, often at the expense of their own happiness and desires. This is what makes Monaleo’s reclamation of BAP all the more epic and incredible. Her work, which centers love, family, friendship, loss, and grief is relatable to the experience of a Black woman in her younger years.
It’s unclear exactly what (if anything) the movie B.A.P.S means to Leo. As for me and my college homegirl, it was a film that bonded us as sisters. At any given moment, we’d break into the scene where Halle Berry dances in line while waiting to audition for a Heavy D video. What is clear is that Monaleo’s work and parts of her life (those which she chooses to share) are relatable, especially in the way she both rejects and reclaims her own respectability. It’s a process of transformation — one where old ways die so new things can live — that seems to be at the heart of Who Did the Body. In a political and cultural moment when unity is needed more than ever, the album is a conversation starter on personal, communal, and spiritual ethics.
It’s clear Monaleo embodies an ethic rooted in her community and commitment to Blackness as a way of life and art, a testament to the idea that the right way may be fulfilled when we learn to blend our Black livelihoods, combining the unorthodox and traditional. It’s a spiritual lesson that goes back to the origins of Black music in this country. For her, sometimes that looks like traditional marriage with an untraditional colorway. Other times it’s something more campy, like spitting knowledge on a pro-Black podcast in gold and pink grillz. Yet it’s all rooted in the God in her — by way of her ancestors and ultimately her Blackness. And that is the making of a Black American Princess.
