Cardi B’s new album Am I The Drama? has dropped like a bomb, unleashing barbs and truths in full force, especially on track 13, “Pretty & Petty,” where she turns her lyrical sniper scope toward fellow rapper BIA. Over seven years after Invasion of Privacy, Cardi has returned not just with songs but with statements—on rivals, on relationships, and on herself, fearless and unfiltered.
From the opening lines of “Pretty & Petty,” there’s no mistaking whom Cardi is talking about. She spits: “Name five Bia songs, gun pointing to your head / Bow! I’m dead / That melatonin flow putting us to bed / I’m doing you a favor, Epic, run me my bread.” Almost every bar is a jab. When Cardi mentions “that melatonin flow,” she’s mocking what she sees as BIA’s sleepy, unenergetic style. By saying “I’m doing you a favor, Epic, run me my bread,” Cardi positions herself as someone with more clout and who offers the label value. She stirs the pot by tossing out questions about BIA’s recognition, asking, “You sure? Do she even have a BET Award?” She’s not just challenging BIA’s music—she’s challenging her status. Then she doubles down: “Pop (expletive) and buy bags, only thing that I do / Every time I pray I thank God I’m not you / I’d rather die on the surgery table before I got to walk around here looking like you.” Every line is a confrontation, meant to sting.
Cardi slams BIA’s persona, even how she carries herself. She rails: “Why you all on people’s face with that (expletive) mouth? / Diarrhea BIA, breath so stank / You can smell her before you see her.” The insults are personal, scathing, meant to disarm. And when Cardi asks, “You from Boston? Let’s have a little tea party / Why you got kicked out of that condo? Why you be online and be lying though?” she’s digging into narratives and rumors, trying to plant doubt or shame around BIA’s authenticity, her stability, her truth. It’s both attack and reveal: Cardi isn’t pulling punches.
To fully see where these lines are coming from, some backstory is needed. BIA, born Bianca Landrau, is a rapper signed to Epic Records, from Medford, Massachusetts. She is Puerto Rican and Italian-American. Among tracks that brought her into mainstream view are “Whole Lotta Money”—which received a high-profile remix with Nicki Minaj—and “London,” featuring J. Cole. Early in her career, she had features on J Balvin’s “Safari” and Russ’s “Best on Earth.” Relatively lean in mainstream accolades compared to Cardi, but with moments that earned her serious ears. She got folks listening and talking.
The feud between Cardi and BIA didn’t pop out of nowhere. It simmered for a while, built up through sampling controversies, online comparisons, and perceived shade. In 2023‑24, BIA dropped “I’M THAT (Expletive)” with Timbaland and sampled a Missy Elliott track. Cardi followed with a freestyle called “Like What (Freestyle),” also sampling Missy Elliott’s “She’s a (Expletive).” Fans noticed the similarity and the tension brewed: whose use was more original, who did it better, who was copying whom. Those comparisons led to online shade, tweets hinting at resentment, and barbs flying in social posts.
Then BIA appears to drop subtler hints at Cardi in a collaboration with Dreezy in April 2024: “How you say you runnin’ down but you can’t walk on the beat?” The line was a small cut, but meant to wound. Cardi struck back in May on GloRilla’s “Wanna Be (Remix)”, where she plays off BIA’s name, spits “Nobody wanna be ya,” and digs at deleted tweets and perceived disingenuity. BIA didn’t hold back when she previewed her own diss track. She accused Cardi of cheating on Offset, accused her of using writers, and even made a barb referencing Cardi’s daughter Kulture: “All that surgery and how your body looks so mid / Thought that (expletive) was for the culture, you trying to ride the wave / You should be home with your kids ’cause (expletive), you speak like second grade.” That last line brought family into it, and once that door opens, the damage becomes more than just lyrical.
Cardi didn’t let that slide. She threatened legal action, saying she would sue BIA for spreading cheating rumors online. Publicly, she defended her family and her name. During an Instagram Live in June 2024 she responded, and when The Breakfast Club interview aired on September 19, 2025, she said that the moment her children were mentioned, she knew she had to respond fully. She called the diss “trash,” and said that she had in fact spoken to BIA before things escalated: “She thought I was copying her, and I was like, ‘Listen, I’m not copying you. I don’t even look at you. You’re not a person that I look at or I’m inspired by.’ And the conversation ended.” But, according to Cardi, BIA kept pushing, over sample usage, music video comparisons, over what Cardi saw as baseless beef.
Then came Am I The Drama? Cardi released it at midnight September 19, 2025. In that context, “Pretty & Petty” doesn’t feel like a side track—it feels like a centerpiece. She dedicates one full track to addressing BIA’s jabs, rumors, and perceived disloyalties. She recounts the past, she pushes back against allegations, she elevates herself above what she frames as BIA’s lesser status. Every insult is strategic—bounding from lyrical skill to personal hygiene, from parenting to fame.
Cardi’s effectiveness in a diss track lives in her confidence. She doesn’t hesitate to remind listeners of what she’s built, how much she’s accomplished, how much more she commands. She challenges BIA’s relevance: asking if she even has a BET Award, referring to her flow as putting people to sleep, mocking her style, and daring her to show up. She also adds personal touches—bringing up the kids, the image, rumors of behavior, accusations, comparisons, status—all parts of a celebrity’s public identity. These aren’t just insults for shock; they’re probes into what makes one rapper seen, large, powerful vs. unseen or whispered about.
What makes this kind of rivalry compelling isn’t simply the insults, but what they reveal. When Cardi speaks of doing “Epic run me my bread,” she’s highlighting how record labels, streaming, recognition, awards—these are vital to a music career. She calls out things we may not usually see: the behind‑scenes, the contracts, the expectations, the fame. She calls into the arena not just the culture of rap beef but the culture of industry, imitation, authenticity, recognition. She’s asking: what are you really doing, what’s your reach, what do you represent? And she frames BIA, in her version of the narrative, as someone trying but failing to stand fully in the spotlight, trying but always trailing.
By mentioning melatonin flow, by talking about surgeries, body image, online behavior, she’s also using tropes we frequently see leveled against women in hip‑hop: critiques of physical appearance, authenticity, motherhood, public behavior. It becomes not just a battle over lyrics, but over reputation, over who gets seen, who gets respected, who can sustain success and who fades into whispers or accusations.
It’s also worth noticing the emotional underpinning. Cardi is angry—angry about rumors, about insinuations, about her name and family being dragged. She frames BIA as someone attacking from below, someone who lies or misrepresents, and so Cardi pushes back with full force. This track is her evidence, her rebuttal, her closing argument in a battle of public perception.
Meanwhile, BIA’s position isn’t without merit. She fought for recognition, she carved her lane. Songs like “Whole Lotta Money” and “London” made her visible. Featuring names like Nicki Minaj or J. Cole is no small thing. But in the hard‑light of Cardi’s critique, the argument shifts from whether she’s good to whether she’s enough: enough fame, enough awards, enough buzz, enough impact. Cardi frames those as markers of real vs. faux success.
The public’s reaction has been electric. Social media lights up when diss tracks hit. Memes, clips, debate about who got the better blow, who’s got more receipts, who will answer and how. Some think Cardi’s words are harsh, others praise her for defending her family, owning her power. Some criticize the attack on personal stuff; others say that’s exactly how rap beefs have always worked.
In effect, “Pretty & Petty” is more than a diss—it’s a claim to legacy. Cardi isn’t just defending herself; she’s reminding listeners of what she has. Her children, her career, her awards, her influence. She positions herself as someone above petty rumors; but she also leans into the pettiness because often, that’s where the fun—and the truth—of rap beef resides. There’s artistry in the burn, in the cadence, in how personal confrontation becomes public spectacle.
When Cardi says she was never inspired by BIA, that she didn’t even look at her, it’s a distancing. She wants to draw the line: you might hear of me, might hear about me, but you’re not in my thoughts. She rejects being compared, being mistaken, being overshadowed. She’s saying: my identity, my path, is different. You think you saw me copying? No. You imagined me stepping off your vibe.
Also, in denying copying and claiming BIA is not someone she even considers, Cardi is subtly raising the stakes. Because to copy someone suggests influence, acknowledgement, respect. By saying she doesn’t consider BIA, Cardi tries to invert any power BIA or her fans might claim. It’s a standard move in many feuds: deny influence, assert dominance.
And there’s the legal angle. Cardi talking about suing BIA for rumors isn’t just social media flexing—it’s taking the possibility of reputational damage seriously. In the rap world, credibility, truth, perception—they all matter. Accusations of cheating are among the most sensitive; throwing children into public shade is another boundary many consider taboo. Cardi doesn’t treat those flip‑side bars lightly. She sees them as attack, not entertainment. And so, for her, this response is inevitable.
As of now, BIA hasn’t responded in kind to “Pretty & Petty” since it dropped. Fans are waiting. Some are calling for a reply track. Others are saying Cardi’s disses are too sharp to ignore. Some wonder whether BIA will engage, whether she wants to elevate the fight or stay on a different path. Because sometimes, silence is a strategy—but in the rap game, silence can also be interpreted as concession.
What’s clear is that Cardi B, with this album and especially with “Pretty & Petty,” has leaned into confrontation, into truth‑telling, into defending her space. She walks the line between outrageousness and vulnerability, between the polished star and the raw human being. She lets listeners see not only her rage but her boundaries: what insults she will let pass, what accusations she must answer.
This is more than a feud. It’s a mirror held up to the roles women in rap are expected to play—about image, motherhood, resilience, notoriety, dominance. Cardi’s not simply telling a rival off; she’s articulating what she believes a queen should not tolerate. She’s claiming what she believes is hers: respect, legacy, narrative control.
And so “Pretty & Petty” becomes part confession, part accusation, part proclamation. It’s not just: “I got something to say.” It’s: “I will be heard.” Whether the public decides she landed best blows or whether BIA will counter, the track already shifted the stakes. It pushes BIA to respond or to define her place in public view. It forces listeners to weigh history, fame, legitimacy, and the thin line between homage and imitation.
In the end, what this situation reveals is how rap beef—especially between women—carries freight. It mixes personal lives and public performance, art and identity. Cardi B, through Am I The Drama?, reminds us that with fame comes scrutiny, that being in the limelight means every move can be mimicked or misread, and that sometimes the sharpest weapon is simply speaking your truth, however raw it might be. As of now, the drama is out, the shots are fired, and the world is watching whose next move will shift the narrative again.
