“Not a poser — a rockstar.” Lipstick Killer talks legacy, heartbreak, and staying real in a curated world.
In this raw and fearless conversation, Lipstick Killer opens up about what it truly means to live like a rockstar in 2025 — not the image, but the soul. From surviving betrayal to refusing to conform, she shares the highs and lows that shaped her, the fans who became family, and the upcoming music that reclaims her power.
Hi Killer, it’s nice to have a chat with you! You’ve said, “I’m not a poser — I’m a rockstar.” What does being a rockstar mean to you in 2025, in a music industry where so much feels curated and manufactured?
To me, being a rockstar has nothing to do with shopping at Hot Topic or throwing on spikes and a leather jacket. That’s surface. Rockstars aren’t created — they’re born. It’s an attitude, a spirit that’s in you from day one. I’m not a rockstar in 2025 — I’ve always been one, in every lifetime.
I’ve always dressed this way, I’ve always carried that rebellious streak, that confidence, that pull toward the dark side. I’ve always stood with the underdogs and the misrepresented. It’s not a costume, it’s not manufactured to look cool — it’s who I am.
I’ve played in real bands — Rebella Rising and Lipstick Mafia — on real stages, with real musicians. That’s rock: raw lyrics, real feelings, powerful energy, and audiences who get it. When you listen to the greats, you can hear and feel their pain, their truth. Rock has a soul. It’s not about piercings and tattoos; it’s about living and bleeding for the music.
You started rapping and writing at 12, and by your early twenties you were already fronting bands and opening for acts like Ariana Grande. Looking back, what moments do you feel shaped your identity the most as an artist?
Honestly, what shaped me the most has been seeing how deeply my music connects with people. Watching someone sing along to lyrics I wrote — with emotion, with tears — that’s a high nothing else can touch. It’s a connection that can’t be faked.
I remember performing at a club in Westport, Kansas City, and someone came up to me after the show. They told me they had been considering suicide, and we ended up talking through one of my songs — the way it impacted them. We connected on a soul-to-soul level. That moment confirmed what I’ve always felt: God gave me this gift for a reason. This is what I’m meant to do — forever.
Even back in high school, I was what people now call a genre-bender. But I was also a clique-bender — I was cool with the emo kids, the hood kids, the nerds, the jocks. I understood everyone and showed love to everyone. That’s still who I am, and my music is for anyone who wants or needs it.
There was a time in Atlanta, when I had a record deal, where I was told to be sexier, to dumb down my lyrics, to take the guitars out. I was being asked to be someone I wasn’t. I walked away from that. I’d rather pass on a big deal than compromise who I am or betray the people who love my music for the truth in it.
Your upcoming single “Delaware Ave” comes from one of the most painful turning points in your life. How did you channel such personal devastation into something explosive, instead of letting it consume you in silence?
Hahaha — who told you it didn’t devastate me in silence? It absolutely did. It devastated me in silence and it devastated me out loud. I had a few crash-outs — I’m human. I love hard, I’m loyal to a fault, almost embarrassingly so. But when I’m done, I’m done. You should be scared when I go quiet. When I turn cold.
I’m a Virgo sun with a Scorpio rising, Scorpio Venus, and Scorpio Lilith. That passion flips to rage real quick. Love and hate? Same emotion. I’ve never understood why anyone would cheat on a rapper — not smart.
Since I was a kid, writing has always been my way to survive. I’d read to escape and write to explain myself, because I never really felt understood. Delaware Ave was therapy. It kept me from throwing another TV off a balcony or ending up in jail.
And the truth is, Virgos and Scorpios are calculated. We play the long game. After the breakup I went quiet, but I wasn’t gone — I was working. Success is the best revenge.
You fuse punk, rap, trapmetal, and beyond. What do you feel each of those genres unlocks in you emotionally or musically that the others can’t?
Freedom. Absolute artistic freedom. Labels, even talking to other artists, even in my earlier days submitting my music — there was always a box to check and I would pick “other.” My music comes from whatever it is I’m feeling, or hearing in my dreams, or expressing from my experiences. Do we humans really check a box? I think the ones that do feel the pressure of having to. Imagine a world where we can just be, like what we like, be who and what we are instead of fitting some mold because whoever says we have to?
The raw emotions of rock, the sincerity of lyrics, the screams of pain and the screams of power — that’s what shaped me. I grew up in Pittsburgh, at a time when gangs were everywhere, even in my school. Some of my family and closest friends were in the streets, and I was attached to them. I lived that life, and now I get to express it through clever metaphors, through the power of my past, representing my home and my neighborhood, telling the truths about that lifestyle people don’t really understand.
There’s pride in that bravado. There’s power in having the skill to write sixteen bars you’re proud of, verses people will memorize word for word. The wordplay, the delivery, the honesty — all of that comes from my roots. And doing it all as a woman makes it even more powerful.
Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1 was born from betrayal, but you’ve also called it a gift to your fans. What do you hope the Lipstick Mafia feels when they press play for the first time?
I hope they feel everything I felt while writing it — and everything I feel when I listen back. Relief in knowing it’s okay to feel. No judgment for hurting, no shame in pain.
I want the Mafia to see themselves in my experience, because I know they’ve lived it too. They’ve been betrayed. They’ve been lied to. They’ve loved someone who didn’t love them back. They’ve felt that sadness. When they press play, I want them to feel — but I also want them to feel the energy that’s helping me heal, grow, and find hope again.
This project gave me my confidence back. For a while, I forgot who I was. Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1 is me remembering. And I want the Mafia to remember who they are right alongside me.
The ashtray overflowing with cigarettes is such a striking image. Do you find visuals often lead your songwriting, or did this moment just demand to become music? How important is the visual aspect of your artistry to you in general?
For me, the visuals and the lyrics always work in tandem. Since I was a kid, I’d wake up at 3 or 4 in the morning, crawl out of bed, and grab the notebook my mom gave me because I was dreaming lyrics, hearing melodies in my sleep. That’s always been how my creativity works — I see it first, then I write it, then I bring it to life.
I’m blessed to work with an incredible artist, Lari Alejandro, who’s never once questioned my ideas. I describe what I see in my head, just like I do with my lyrics, and she delivers exactly what I envisioned. It’s the same with my videos — I already see them fully formed before we shoot. I know how all my art fits together as one vision. My team understands me, and I’m grateful they have the patience, because I’m clear on what I want.
The ashtray overflowing with cigarettes was real. That wasn’t staged — that was my life in that moment. I don’t smoke like that — maybe socially once in a while — but when you find out the world you built with your best friend, your entire future, was a lie… and then you hear multiple recordings of the person you loved most being with not just one, but multiple women… let’s just say thank God all I did was chain-smoke.
That ashtray was my pain, my confusion, my heartbreak in real time. And the music was happening right alongside it. The visual and the sound — they’ve always been one and the same for me.
You’ve described your sound as Biggie Smalls meets Madonna or Marilyn Manson. If those artists were sitting front row at one of your shows, what part of your performance do you think would shock them most? Will you pay tributes to them with their own songs?
Hahaha, yes, facts. I actually remade Biggie’s “10 Crack Commandments” into “10 Man Commandments” and performed it at a few shows — the response was insane. People don’t give Marilyn Manson his props, either. That man had some street in him! You have to really understand his drum patterns and lyrics to know he was actually spitting. And Madonna — the sexiness, the intentional shock value, literally flipping the middle finger to every norm.
With some of the new music coming out — past Delaware Ave but on the full LP — the storytelling is something BIG would definitely nod at. Marilyn Manson didn’t give a damn what people thought; he spoke for the weak and underrepresented. And then you throw in the bravado and cadence of Jay-Z… honestly, even thinking about it gets me hyped. Don’t even get me started on Kurt Cobain, one of my true loves.
If all of them were sitting front row at one of my shows, I’d perform for them together in our next life, lol. And yes — my catalog is extensive. Fans will hear tributes to all of them after the LP drops!
Your shows have been compared to H.R. of Bad Brains — wild, unpredictable, high-octane. When you step on stage, what flips that switch inside you?
Man, that switch flips on well before I even hit the stage. The second I wake up and realize I’ve got a show that night, I’m already in mode. I used to have this routine — Jameson and Twizzlers right before going on. Don’t judge me, but I perform full sets in the shower, song by song.
The switch? It’s letting loose everything that’s been bubbling inside me. My team literally has to drag me off stage sometimes. One show, I was still performing, and my brother had to snap me out of my trance — hahahaha. That was a long time ago, but now it’s harder to turn off.
I’ve woken up after shows with bruises, sore muscles, scrapes on my knees — none of which I even felt on stage. That’s how gone I get. I don’t stick to choreography; I do whatever feels right in the moment. Jump off speakers, crawl, roll, even tie people up on stage — whatever the energy calls for. My poor team.
And honestly, I don’t even call it a performance. It’s not about that. It’s about the energy we create together, merging with the audience, going up with them. I miss it so much. Soon… very soon. I can’t wait.
What’s the most powerful message you’ve received back from a fan who saw themselves in your music? Have any fans reached out to tell you that a particular track helped them through a tough time in their life?
One of the most powerful interactions I’ve ever had was with a beautiful soul at a show in Kansas City — the conversation about suicide I shared before. But some of the other moments that hit me just as hard are smaller, deeply personal ones.
For example, there’s a girl I love and adore in the Lipstick Mafia. She messaged me after seeing me post pictures wearing what I wanted — shorts and heels — even though I sometimes feel like I’m not where I want to be physically. She told me it made her feel confident to wear her own shorts, because she hadn’t been comfortable doing it before. That blew me away. It made me want to work on myself, to do better, not just for me, but for the Mafia. It reminded me that they see me as human — going through the same struggles they do. She started rocking her little outfits, and I was so proud of her. It was a reminder to myself: keep going. Don’t give up.
Another unforgettable moment was with someone in the Mafia — I hate the word “fans,” by the way. He told me he feels like he’s part of my immediate family. After meeting him in real life, spending time together, that feeling only grew stronger. Now we exchange encouraging messages all the time. From a stranger supporting my music to someone I truly consider family — that’s the Lipstick Mafia. They’re not fans. They’re my family.
And finally, what message would you like to share with your current Lipstick Mafia and future fans — both as an artist and as a human being?
I want to start by saying thank you — and I’m sorry it took me so long to get music rollouts together. I’ll be back on stage soon, and I can’t wait to see all of you face to face. Your patience, loyalty, and support over the years mean everything to me.
I also want to remind you of something important: nothing can destroy you. I went through something that was meant to break me, but I took my power back. And I want you to know how truly powerful you are, too. Message me, DM me, whatever you need — I’ll help you remember who the fuck you are.
Love you, always.
