How Bktherula and TiaCorine Built Their Own Lanes in the World of ‘Boy Music’ 

“I feel like [I] definitely had to carve [my lane] out,” TiaCorine told me backstage after her performance. “Everything’s very male,” the North Carolina-born rapper said. “But I think getting on songs with male artists, and washing them definitely helps a lot. So I made that my goal.”

That strategy’s working. Tia, who broke out with the glitchy bop “FreakyT,” has proven herself to be just as capable of making the crowd go up as any of her male counterparts. She arguably met her goal of washing the boys on their own songs, reminiscent of Nicki Minaj doing this multiple times throughout her career, with her verse on Denzel Curry’s “Hot One.”  And her run doesn’t stop there. Her new single, “Ironic,” is the kind of hooky, flex-heavy track that could and should be everywhere.

“After my performance, it kind of inspired me to make more rager-type music,” she said. “Because my stuff is pretty cool. It’s swaggy. But it empowers me. If I can still go up there and make people fuck with me, even though they might not want to hear, it’s like, you gonna hear this shit today.”

That mix of confidence and intention is baked into Tia’s work. Her upcoming album, Corinian, dropping in August, completes a trilogy she’s been building since 2022’s I Can’t Wait and last year’s Almost There.

“Just making fire verses, especially when I do features, and making creative visuals,” she said of her process. “But I really think when I drop this album, y’all gonna see what’s coming next.”

Bktherula, on the other hand, is already in her next era. Her latest project, Lucy, released on June 27, is her most polished and melodic work to date. Inspired by the Scarlett Johansson film of the same name, it’s an evolution of the Atlanta artist’s sound that doubles down on what made her magnetic in the first place: trippy vocals, Nintendo-style production, and flows that shift between hard and soft. 

“She basically accesses 100 percent of her brain,” Bk told me of how the movie Lucy relates to the music. “It kind of feeds off [my last project] Level Five into a whole new dimension. And it’s basically me maturing my sound while still holding on to my fans, and going to the next level with my fans and not leaving them behind.”

That evolution is audible. Gone is the slurred SoundCloud-era delivery. In its place: clarity, pacing, and production( including a song produced by Skaiwater) that feels intentionally girlish without being cutesy. Layered with synths that echo Pierre Bourne’s work, Lucy still has a softness and vulnerability that feel distinctly Bk. Not to mention transitions that scratch the brain just right. And, crucially, there’s no mumbling, something the boys can’t seem to evolve past.

At Summer Smash, Bk and Tia’s set were some of the few that brought all genders together. Yes, the majority were teen boys and 20-something men, but women still turned up in droves. 

“I love seeing more women on sets, because there weren’t really a lot the first year we came,” said Alyssa Stacks, 18. Stacks attended the festival for the first time in 2023. “It’s very empowering because we're the best. We come here to meet others with the same music tastes as us. It’s also cool to see ourselves on the stage. It feels like they’re making space for us to rage, too, but in our own way.”

“It feels amazing,” Bk said, reflecting on the rise of more women in this segment of hip-hop. “I really do love that I’m coming up in an era where there’s a lot of other women surrounding me, too—great women artists that are just doing crazy things.Shout out all my female artist friends. I wouldn’t trade them or this experience or era for the world.”

While Bk said she always feels seen—“It’s just, like, an internal thing”—there’s a difference between self-assurance and structural support. Women in this scene still face challenges when it comes to visibility and respect. One way this manifests is through the language fans, publications, and other men in hip-hop use to describe women who rap.

“It’s really when guys say, ‘Oh, that’s the best female artist,’” Tia said. “It’s like, can we just say artist? Because some of these females are better than these dudes. We don’t need to say female or male. I really wish it would stop.”

Indeed, Bk and Tia’s music isn’t “good for a girl.” It’s just good. But to succeed in this world, they’ve had to bring more than bars. Their visuals, style, and personalities unfortunately matter just as much.

There’s still work to be done. Female artists’ potential hits need to be promoted with the fervor others receive for far less compelling output. The expectations that women must perform overt femininity to succeed in rap still linger. But what Bk and Tia are creating is exciting. Their world-building, along with their music, is strange and stylish. If anything, Bktherula and TiaCorine are showing that “boy music” might actually get better when women lead the charge.

“[Performing] does feel good, because it’s like, we not raging, but you gonna listen to this today and you gonna fuck with it,” Tia said. “It feels like you bossing up when you make them fuck with you. And then you see it happening, and it’s like, exactly.”