Lipstick Killer ’s new single, “Delaware Ave,” doesn’t whisper—it detonates. The track, the first glimpse into her upcoming Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1, is a raw exercise in anger turned into sound, a sonic exorcism of betrayal that doesn’t aim for catharsis so much as combustion.
The beat thrashes between trap and punk chaos, while her delivery veers from venomous spitfire to guttural growl. You can hear her voice breaking at points, but it only makes the rage sharper. She isn’t here to tidy up heartbreak into something palatable. She’s here to burn it down and dare anyone listening to look away.
“This isn’t a soft song. It’s a funeral for the fantasy I was sold,” she says—and you believe her. The recording that sparked this track, an audio file that revealed an affair she’d long suspected, gives “Delaware Ave” a weight beyond performance. It’s proof weaponized into rhythm, a street name etched in her psyche, now blasted across speakers.
What sets the track apart is its refusal to sand down the edges. Where so many heartbreak anthems eventually resolve into empowerment slogans, Lipstick Killer stays in the moment of fury. It’s ugly, and that’s the point. She’s less interested in healing than in giving listeners the feeling of standing in the fire with her.
For fans of hip-hop’s confessional side and punk’s boundary-pushing ethos, “Delaware Ave” lands like a perfect collision. It’s an opening shot that suggests Cigarettes & Heartbreak Vol. 1 won’t be just another project—it’ll be a manifesto scorched into the pavement.
