Lipstick Killer doesn’t just make music — she bleeds it. With her new single “Delaware Ave,” the New York artist turns heartbreak into pure combustion, spitting venom and vulnerability in equal measure. The track hits like a confession you were never supposed to hear, raw and reckless, yet cut with precision. It’s the first taste of her upcoming project Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1, a body of work born from the ashes of betrayal and rebirth.
We caught up with Lipstick Killer to talk about what really went down on “Delaware Ave,” how pain became her creative fuel, and why she refuses to sugarcoat anything — not her truth, not her sound, and definitely not her rage.
1. “Delaware Ave” hits like an emotional explosion. When you first stepped into the booth to record it, what kind of headspace were you in — rage, pain, or full-blown power mode?
Man, I was f*cked up. It wasn’t just one emotion — it was everything at once. I’m a Virgo sun with Scorpio rising and Scorpio Venus, so my feelings hit hard. I walked in that booth carrying pain, rage, disgust, sadness, betrayal — all of it. I felt violated, like… the audacity, you know? I was mad at them, yeah, but I was also mad at myself. Like, how did I let this happen to me? I know I’m a good woman. I know I’m a bad bitch. So I felt disappointed in myself for ignoring the red flags, for giving chances.
Recording that song was me getting my power back. It wasn’t about being polished or pretty — I needed to feel every word. I needed to scream it, cry it, own it. That song was for me first. That was survival mode in the mic.
2. You’ve described this track as “a funeral for the fantasy I was sold.” That’s a heavy statement. What did that fantasy look like, and what did it take to finally bury it?
The fantasy was the life I thought I was building with this man for over five years. I believed he was my husband, my best friend, a father figure, this mysterious, loyal partner I was building an empire with. We were planning businesses, looking at land to buy, even naming our future kid. Our families believed in it too. He sold that dream so well, and I bought every piece of it because I wanted it to be real.
But it was all future faking. Smoke and mirrors. What buried it? The universe hit me with a cold, brutal truth I couldn’t unsee. Facts I couldn’t make excuses for anymore. He had cheated — again — and even though I had caught him before, I always let him talk his way out of it. Deep down I knew. But I held onto the fantasy because I didn’t want to lose the dream I built in my head.
This last time? I couldn’t do it anymore. My soul was tired. Whatever tiny piece of self-respect I still had left — I had to reach for that. That’s what helped me finally bury it. That’s what this song is. It’s the funeral for everything I wanted to believe… and the beginning of me waking up.
3. The backstory behind “Delaware Ave” — discovering an affair through a secret recording — is brutal and cinematic. How did you decide to turn something that personal into art instead of destruction?
Honestly, I didn’t decide — it’s just who I am. Writing has always been my outlet, my survival tool. It’s how I process what I feel when words to other people just won’t come out right. I’ve had that since I was a kid — whenever life hit hard, I wrote. Talking to friends or family isn’t always easy, especially when they love you and don’t want to see you hurt. You can’t always explain what’s really going on inside, you know?
So when everything happened, yeah, I cried, I screamed, I broke down — but none of that actually helped me heal. I had to get it out through music, or I would’ve self-destructed. Writing and recording Delaware Ave became my therapy. It was me trying to breathe again.
And the blessing in it all is realizing I’m not the only one — there are so many people going through that same heartbreak, that same betrayal, and if my pain can help them feel seen or understood, then something beautiful came out of something ugly.
4. Sonically, the track feels like hip-hop on fire — you’ve got punk energy, trapmetal aggression, and rap precision all bleeding together. How do you find balance in that chaos?
LOL — I wish I could say I’ve found balance in chaos. I’m still looking for it, honestly. But that’s kind of the beauty of my process — I don’t force balance, I just let it be what it is. My emotions are real, they’re layered and intense, and my sound reflects that. I don’t sit down and say, “Okay, this part needs to be more punk,” or “Let’s go heavier here.” It’s not calculated — it’s felt.
Whatever comes out in that moment is exactly what it’s supposed to be. If it’s rage, it’s rage. If it’s pain, it’s pain. I trust my instincts. When my soul signs off on it — when I listen back and get that “yup, that’s it right there” feeling — that’s how I know it’s right. That’s the balance for me: not controlling the chaos, but honoring it.
5. Your vocals on this one go from venomous bars to guttural growls. Did you approach recording it more like a rap session or a full-body performance?
I love this question — seriously! Anyone who’s ever been in the studio with me knows exactly how I get down, especially my engineer. I don’t just record like it’s a rap session — I go full performance mode. I black out and go straight to the stage in my mind. I picture a crowd, a spotlight, people in front of me feeling every word, and I just let it rip — full body, full power, full strength.
I’m in that booth thinking, “When they hear this, I want them to feel me.” Not just hear it — feel it. And if I don’t feel like it’s hitting that level yet? We run it back. Over and over. Until the energy is undeniable. Until it punches you in the chest. That’s how serious I take it — it’s not just vocals, it’s visceral.
6. You pull from a wild range of influences — from The Notorious B.I.G. to Nirvana to Bad Brains. What connects all those worlds for you?
Man, it’s their artistic genius — their ability to tell stories, to paint vivid-ass pictures that you don’t just hear, you feel and see. It’s their rawness, their confidence, their fearlessness. The way they put their whole selves into the music, no filter. They didn’t care what anyone had to say — they made music on their terms, and that’s powerful to me.
They all came from struggle, overcame shit, and still stood tall in their truth. That’s what I connect with. And honestly, people who really understand music know that genre is just a label. It’s humans trying to organize things to make sense of it, but music itself is universal — it’s all connected. Society loves separation, loves boxes. But real artists? We move past that. I don’t care how different Biggie, Nirvana, and Bad Brains might seem — they all tapped into the same frequency. And that’s the gift I chase, too.
7. “Delaware Ave” is the first drop from Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1. What’s the bigger picture of this project? What are you trying to say through the whole volume, not just this track?
Let’s bring back a word that came up earlier — chaos. That’s really the heartbeat of this whole project. Both Volume 1 and Volume 2 are rooted in the chaos of love — and with that comes everything: pain, passion, obsession, fear, rage, confusion, lust, heartbreak. It’s not clean or polished. It’s not some Hallmark version of love. It’s messy. It’s raw. And it’s real.
These songs carry hate, yeah — but also addiction, vulnerability, and even moments where I sound lost or toxic or confused. Because that’s the truth of loving someone deeply and losing yourself in it. I’m not afraid to show the parts that might be embarrassing or uncomfortable. I don’t care about being perfect — I care about being honest. And Cigarettes & Heartbreak is just that. It’s me bleeding on the track so people who’ve been through it know they’re not alone.
8. You’ve got a reputation for leaving everything on stage. How do your live shows translate that fury and vulnerability from the studio to the crowd?
Man, I miss the stage so much. And you’re absolutely right — when I perform, I leave everything up there. If what I’m feeling isn’t resonating with the crowd, I’m not leaving that stage until it does. I need to feel that connection. I need to see the eyeballs, the tears, the screams — I need your energy to mirror mine. I’m not up there to be cute. I’m on the floor. I’m screaming. I’m crying. I’m stomping on speakers, sorry promoters, lol. I’m getting ugly with it.
The stage is my exorcism ground. That’s where I release. That’s where the healing happens — for me and for the people watching. There’s nothing in the world like it. That moment when the pain, the rage, the truth in the music hits everyone at once — that’s church to me.
9. Your fanbase calls themselves the Lipstick Mafia. How has that community evolved — and what do they mean to you when you’re creating through pain or chaos?
Omg, the Mafia is my family. That’s my people — my brothers, my sisters, my tribe. They keep me going in ways they don’t even realize. When I’m in my head or feeling low — because yeah, I’m human, it happens — they’ll slide into my DMs with love, with reminders, with that tough talk I need sometimes. They’ll be like, “Nah, we know who you are. Get back up.” And that snaps me right out of it.
They remind me of my power, my purpose, and why I started doing this in the first place. They expect me to be me — unapologetic, raw, fearless — and they hold me accountable to that. Through all the pain and chaos, they’re right there, riding with me, pushing me to conquer it. They’re not fans — they’re my blessings. They mean everything to me.
10. Last one — when people press play on “Delaware Ave,” what do you want to happen inside them? Rage? Healing? Or maybe just the courage to walk away from their own Delaware Ave?
I want people to go through their process — the same way I did. Feel whatever the hell you need to feel, and feel it hardand deep so you can come out stronger. If you’re mad, then be mad. Rage it out. Then say, “Okay, what’s next?” If you’re sad, that’s okay too. Feel that shit fully, then level up. Don’t run from it. Acknowledge it, own it, and then rise above it. And hell yes, get the courage to walk the fuck away like the badass you are.
Not gonna lie, listening to Delaware Ave was hard for me at first. Facing those demons and ghosts — especially at the end when I hear that other girl’s voice — I didn’t wanna hear it. But now? I’m like, “Aww, shit. Yeah, that happened.” Now I can even twerk to it and love it because I put in the work.Delaware Ave is just a part of my journey — and trust me, there’s so much more coming. Y’all are gonna be like, “Damn, what did this girl go through?!” I can’t wait to share it all.