Was Cardi B’s ‘Am I the Drama?’ Worth the 7-Year Wait?

Cardi B, the Artist

Precious Fondren: How did you get into Cardi B and her music?

Deb Ashley: I like to brag about this because I really was there from the beginning. I first knew Cardi from Instagram—just her in a bonnet, talking straight into the camera, funny and unfiltered. At first, I thought she was just an internet personality. Then, suddenly, she’s on Love & Hip Hop. That show rarely produces people we take seriously, so I was skeptical. But when she started making music, I was already rooting for her—partly because I’d invested time into her as a personality, and partly because she was a New Yorker, and I always want New Yorkers to win. Her background as a stripper didn’t faze me; if anything, I respected her hustle. Watching her climb from viral videos to DJ Self to real records felt like a win for all of us. She made people pay attention when no one thought she could.

Nino Reyes: I didn’t know Cardi until college. I was in Miami when friends back home kept mentioning this hilarious girl online who’d visit her boyfriend in prison and clown on Instagram. But “Bodak Yellow” is what really sold me—I’d hear it driving to work in Miami, and it hit hard. Cardi felt raw and real, like she was talking directly to girls from the hood. For me, she’s always been more personality than just music. Her authenticity is magnetic—messy, professional, unfiltered all at once. That realness made other women believe they could break in too. I’ve interviewed artists like ScarLip and Maiya the Don, who’ve said flat out that Cardi opened doors for them. She made rap feel attainable in a way Nicki, as iconic as she is, didn’t. That impact matters.

DA: That’s real. I grew up on Nicki, so seeing her make it out of Queens was huge for me. But Nicki’s success always felt like hard to replicate. Cardi was different. When she dropped actual rap records, I was surprised at how good they were. Suddenly she wasn’t just another reality star trying to rhyme; she was making legit music. That’s when I started taking her seriously.

NR: Exactly. And her evolution is wild. Early Cardi was raw—super street, unpolished. Now she can hold her own in formal interviews and brand partnerships. It reminds me of Kim Kardashian’s rebrand, from that tape to law school and Balenciaga campaigns. Cardi proved she could grow beyond Love & Hip Hop into a global star. 

PF: For me, it actually started when she linked with Offset. I was a huge Migos fan in college, so when she featured him on a mixtape track, that’s how I really tuned in. At first, I wasn’t sure I could take her seriously. I knew her as the funny Instagram girl, not a rapper. But when I heard Invasion of Privacy, I realized she could build a whole album, not just viral singles. That shifted everything. Now, seven years later, here we are with Am I the Drama?

The Sound of Drama

PF: How did we feel about the actual music on the album?

DA: I’ll be honest—this is where I get a little critical. I loved the beats; they carried a lot of the project for me. But sonically, it didn’t feel much different from Invasion of Privacy. For a comeback this hyped, I expected more marquee names behind the boards. Cash Cobain stood out, but where were the big-budget producers that signal a major return? Cardi even joked about not having the budget, and sometimes it felt like that might’ve been true. The production was solid, but it didn’t scream “seven years in the making.”

NR: I get that, but I want to shout out Dizzy Banko—he did “Principal,” with [the] Janet Jackson sample. He’s a Grammy winner who’s worked with Pop Smoke and Fivio Foreign, and that beat gave me early-2000s New York nostalgia. Sure, he’s not a big name, but I respect Cardi for giving shine to newer or less-hyped producers. The sound overall showed real versatility. There’s Jersey club influence on “Bodega Baddie,” West Coast vibes on “Pretty & Petty,” and raw disses that reminded us Cardi is still Cardi. It wasn’t one-note—she gave us different textures and moods, which I appreciated.

The Subject Matter

PF: Let’s move from sonics to substance. Did the album deliver on content? Did you like what she chose to talk about?

DA: I’m mixed. The disses were great. But some choices dulled the moment. “Principal” being a sample credited as a feature felt like a bait-and-switch; I fully (foolishly!) expected new Janet vocals. Big swing, bigger miss. Same with dropping “WAP” and “Up” onto a seven-years-later album. I get the certification strategy, but those songs anchor me to peak-pandemic memories and Ben Shapiro think pieces capsule on a 2025 rollout. If you’re going to repeat collaborators, give us new records. Content-wise, I liked when she was specific and cutting—naming names, airing receipts. I also appreciated flashes of reflection in the Offset arc; the “Safe,” “Man of Your Word,” “What’s Goin On” run shows a steadier pen and some real self-interrogation. I just wanted more of that depth. And while we’re not trying to fixate on producers, it’s surprising there isn’t a Cash Cobain producer moment here, given how present that New York sound is in the culture—felt like a missed opportunity. Basically, when Cardi’s direct, she’s riveting; when she leans on old smashes or marquee names by proxy, the album’s present tense slips.

NR: I liked the content because it toggles between crown-polishing and score-settling. She opens with statements like “Hello,” and “Magnet” that read like mission statements where she's saying, “I’m back, I’m that girl, and yes, I run my life and this conversation.” Lines like “Shout out to my hoes that wear the pants like Kamala” are classic so funny, political, and petty in one breath. The disses work because they sound like how she actually talks; it’s straight-up trash talk. That said, I was also waiting for deeper vulnerability around the divorce and pregnancy. She’s spoken about crying through sessions and being blocked—put that on wax. We get glimpses (again, that mid-album run), but I wanted the full picture: grief, anger, bargaining, all of it. As a single mom, I listen for the “how I kept going” detail. Because I'm a single mom, I've been through it, so those are things like I said that you connect with with an artist. It's like, damn, like, I've been through that situation. I been through the heartbreak. I've been cheated on. I've been played. I had to step up as a woman and really be like, “All right, let me get this paper,” because I needed to provide. So there's things about her that I was waiting for more within her album, regarding those kinds of things. 

PF: I heard the album in three acts. Act I: Coronation. Cardi reasserting [her] legend status after a seven-year wait. Act II: The Offset chapter. About four songs of honest processing that hint at a heavier album she chose not to make. And Act III: New love and renewed flexing. She kind of saying she’s still that woman, just with different stakes. I wanted more of Act II. If this era included a pregnancy, a public split, and a new relationship, give us the day-to-day: motherhood at scale, the price of fame, what stan culture does to your brain. Doja’s Scarlet chewed on that. And Cardi could have, too. As for the shots, the Bia diss is my favorite content moment—direct, mean, efficient. But my favorite track shouldn’t be a diss track. Overall, Cardi delivered assertiveness in bulk and vulnerability in slices. Next time, I’m hoping for more more diary style writing, because when she goes there, you can’t look away.

DA: I’ll admit, some surprises worked for me. “Pick It Up” with Selena Gomez was smoother than I expected—I thought the collab was fake when I first saw the rumor. And the three-song run of “Safe,” “Man of Your Word,” and “What’s Goin On” was the most vulnerable I’ve ever heard her. That maturity, alongside her messier moments, like “Pretty & Petty,” made the album feel balanced. My only gripe is some songs, like “Bodega Baddie,” should’ve dropped in summer, when they’d hit harder. WTF are we supposed to do with this now? It’s the first day of fall. 

PF: For me, “Bodega Baddie” is the standout. It felt alive—very New York, very now. I heard Jersey club and drill all weekend at a party, and this would’ve fit perfectly in that mix. “Pretty & Petty” is another highlight, and “Trophies” goes off, with just the right level of aggression. I also liked “Salute,” which gave me Offset vibes. I kept waiting for him to jump on the track. Features were hit or miss. Selena Gomez surprised me, Kehlani felt recycled, and the Lizzo feature didn’t need to happen. Like, at all. Overall, Cardi showed range, but I wanted her to push even further outside her comfort zone.

What Doesn’t Work

PF: What didn’t really work for you on this album?

NR: I love Cardi, but sometimes the delivery gets muddy. She raps fast, and there are moments where the words blur into each other—it’s almost like she’s slurring. And this is coming from me as a Latina who wants to catch everything. The accent itself isn’t the problem; it’s that the articulation doesn’t always match the pace. On “Bodega Baddie,” for instance, I was vibing to the beat, but I had to pull up the lyrics to understand what she was saying. That’s not always a deal breaker, but it can be distracting. To her credit, she’s improved a lot over the years—you can tell she’s practicing her clarity and maybe even working with coaches—but the inconsistency still shows. The production sometimes saves the moment, because a great beat will mask what the words don’t fully carry. My only real gripe is that clarity matters, especially on big comeback projects. When you’ve got people waiting seven years, you want your words to land crystal clear. 

DA: For me, the beats were the weak link. Cardi gave us energy, yes, and even a touch of growth with the vulnerability, but the production didn’t always meet the moment. Seven years later, I wanted blockbuster-level tracks. Instead, too many beats sounded like they could’ve been given to anyone. Honestly? I heard better production on Ice Spice’s debut. 

(BOMBASTIC SIDE-EYE FROM PRECIOUS) 

DA: There wasn’t a single undeniable, culture-shaking anthem here—no track I can point to and say, that one will own the summer. “Outside” was clearly meant to be that moment, but it never caught. And then there’s “Imaginary Playerz.” Sampling one of Jay-Z’s best-known songs is always going to invite scrutiny, and Cardi didn’t quite nail it. I appreciate the risk, but it felt unfinished—tapering off instead of building into something sharp. Worse, it sits awkwardly in the sequencing, coming right after that slow-ass Selena Gomez track. If you’re going to step into Jay-Z’s lane, you need to not just honor it, but elevate it. Instead, it felt like filler. That’s where the album lost me.

Was the Album Worth the Wait?

PF: So, last question: Did Cardi actually deliver? Was this worth waiting seven years? For me, it felt like she came back with a vengeance. She had scores to settle, and she definitely did. And maybe she needed the seven years for that—maybe this album wouldn’t have made sense if it had come three years ago, when she and Offset were still together. But, honestly, it feels more like a good effort than a great one. Solid, yes. Worth seven years? Not so sure.

NR: I hear you, but I think the long wait might have been a good thing. It reminds me of Rihanna—exclusivity keeps fans hungry. The rollout this time was massive: DoorDash partnerships, skits at train stations, fake Chanel bags on Canal Street, billboards in Harlem. It had everyone buzzing before the music even dropped. That anticipation wouldn’t have been the same if she’d released in, say, 2020. And beyond marketing, artists are human. They can’t just pump out albums on demand—they need the right mental space. I’ve seen it in studios; sometimes the creative process just stalls. Cardi’s been through pregnancies, a separation, a new relationship—it makes sense she had to live life before putting it all on record. So, yeah, I think it came at the right time.

DA: I’ll give you that—the rollout was brilliant, and very her. I literally ordered the album off DoorDash with my dinner, and it worked seamlessly. She had drones dropping copies via Walmart, and those Canal Street pop-ups with the fake bags. That’s such authentic New York marketing. I love that she brought it home instead of trying to be faux-Parisian chic. But if I set aside the rollout and look just at the music, I think she’s still strongest as a singles artist. “WAP”, “Money,” “Press” are bops [that will] live forever. This album has fun moments, and I appreciated her experimenting with Selena Gomez and Lizzo, but there isn’t one undeniable anthem I’ll remember as the song of this project.

PF: Right, and as much as I loved the creative promo, I have to push back as a journalist—marketing can’t carry the music. And musically, this doesn’t totally match the scale of the rollout. If I have to put on my Fantano hat here for a second, I’ll probably give this a 6.5, maybe a 6.8. I love the disses, but it says something when the best track here is a diss record. I would’ve liked more vulnerability, tighter hooks, cleaner verses. And we didn’t need 23 tracks; cut seven and you’d have a sharper project.

NR: I’d land a little higher—maybe a solid seven. This is probably the Cardi project I’ve listened to the most, and I really like four or five songs. That’s not bad. Yes, some verses could be clearer, but I respect the empowerment thread. “Hello” was my favorite; it felt like her planting the flag again. For me, this is as strong as she could realistically go right now.

DA: Same. I don’t think it’s a perfect album, but I enjoyed it. Even when some tracks don’t totally land, they sound like Cardi. The voice, the accent, the personality—nobody else could give us that. And I really respect that she stacked the project with mostly women. No endless parade of male features, just Cardi holding her own with women she vibes with. That matters. So did she deliver? In her way, yes. Was it worth seven years? Maybe not entirely, but she gave us growth, she gave us spectacle, and she gave us Cardi. My only hope is we don’t have to wait another seven before we get the next one.