“””””PLACE YOUR ORDERS WITHOUT ANY HESITATIONS”””””

Cardi B on Proving Her Greatness: ‘I’m That Bitch, and Y’all Fucking Know It’

She’s on a mission to cement her legacy while handling the pressures of marriage, motherhood, and following up a classic debut

BY MANKAPRR CONTEH

PHOTOGRAPHY BY ADRIENNE RAQUEL

CARDI B IS makeup-free and draped in an orange, impossibly plush, queen-size blanket as she shuffles into Glenwood Place Studios in Burbank, California, around nine o’clock one evening in mid-March. Whatever hairstyle she currently has (knowing Cardi, it could be anything from a wig worth thousands to her fluffy, waist-length natural hair) is tucked under a giant bonnet, its magenta-and-teal geometric print immediately familiar from videos she’s posted on TikTok.

Cardi, who’s been handling phone calls and other tasks since 9 a.m., is feeling drained. She’s here to work on her upcoming album; tonight, she’s also tasked with what she calls “aggressive promotion” for a new single, “Enough (Miami).” “Right now, I’m getting cursed out because I was supposed to be on Stationhead,” she says, referring to the livestreaming app on which she is expected to be interacting with her fans (stan army name: BardiGang). “I got 3,000 fans like, ‘The bitch …’” she growls, mimicking the fury she suspects is brewing. (She does eventually appear on the app, and “Enough” hit Number One on Billboard’s Digital Sales Chart.)

Cardi isn’t the only star at work in the building tonight. Lizzo pops into Cardi’s room to say hello. “Look at you!” she coos, hugging Cardi. “You look like a little angel. I love you.” She jokingly encourages Cardi to promote the clothes her shapewear brand Yitty sent Cardi’s way (“Post and tag!”) before announcing that she’s off to “get some dick.”

“Lucky you,” says Cardi. “Lucky, lucky you.”

Cardi needs coffee. When it arrives, she tears open several — like, several — packets of sugar and dumps them into her mug, along with some cream. Despite her visceral fatigue, it doesn’t take long for her to animate. When she cracks jokes or speaks hyperbolically, there is an undercurrent of laughter that gurgles in her throat but doesn’t always break, like a stand-up who knows not to spend too much time giggling at herself.

“I could drink a dark coffee,” she says. “But only my family could make a dark coffee I could drink.”

“Is it a different type of coffee?” I ask.

“No, but they make it with love,” she says, shrinking into a petite, Disney-princess swoon. (Her longtime recording engineer Evan LaRay Brunson tells me her family makes their coffee with brown sugar.)

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