Fatimah Nyeema Warner. You know her. She that one from way round the way. Always be hanging out at the open mikes. You might have even seen her in the library sometimes. Got a mouth full of quick tongue.

She look ordinary but her rap is extraordinary. Ask J. Cole. He be knowing. Find yourself in a shoot-out. You got a pop pistol. And she show up sporting a bazooka with a silencer on it.

She been around the town for a while and the serious fans got her handle up in their mouth even though she call herself “Noname”. One of them quiet ones until she drop verses, and verses, mo verses, and still be versifying when even the more famous ones be waving white flags. She not only fast and furious, she conscious and curious. Make you ask: what’s her name, who her people is? How come she got all that knowledge?

Come out of Chi-town (aka Chicago). May be on the 25th floor of one of them hi-rises. Catch her on her way up. Look she done climbed to the top even when the elevators wasn’t working and she had to take the stairs, leaping up landing by landing.

Lord, there is a lot of Black women out there trying to make it in the game, but not many of them start a library/book club. She don’t look like no nerd but damn, she sure know the word(s)–all of them, a dictionary is her pillow, except she don’t be sleeping. She be steady studying, her self, her world.

Her major release (to date) is 2018’s Room 25. Check her out. It’s really nice. Indeed, more than nice, cause of the deep way she drop the fiery syllables. Others may spit, but in a “killing your ass softly”–kind of way, she so hot, she microwave. 

I’m old as dirt but I dig her young work. Noname. Remember her name.