A great source of joy in any sort of relationship comes from the exuberant, haphazard construction of its insider/outsider divide—a gleeful series of shared jokes and small secrets on behalf of a cold, unassuming outsider public. Consider: the buoyant act of whispering in a friend’s ear at the bar; the simultaneous quelling of a laugh incited by a stranger’s peculiar turn of phrase; the lingering eye contact made at a moment of high tension—to be in, at its most wickedly indulgent, is to delight at the small, humorous expense of those unlucky enough to be out.

Flo Milli—24-year-old singer, rapper, and social media sensation—has consistently proven herself to be one of the most exciting faces in the R&B and rap genre for her unique ability to make an audience feel in. Perhaps it’s the Alabama-born rapper’s balmy, colloquial lilt; perhaps it’s the way her girlish giggles curl around sing-songy, taunting hooks; perhaps it’s her flirtatious, glittering delivery of verses that make us feel like we’re on the receiving end of a gossipy phone call (in new platinum single, “Never Lose Me,” Flo Milli regales the listener with juicy details about a boujee lover: “fly to Asia he feedin’ me sushi / when we f–ckin it feel like a movie”). All of her songs allow the listener the giddiness that comes with being in the know.

When I speak with Flo Milli about her most recent project, 2024’s Fine Ho, Stay, she tells me that it’s the most intimate of all the records she’s put out. “I’m showing a very different side of myself,” she tells me over the phone, her voice smooth and deliberate even as it warps through layers of satellite interference. “I feel like people were so married to a certain side of me, but with this project... I’m showing my lover girl side.” Fine Ho, Stay is the latest in a series of metaphorical salutations to a nebulous Ho, for whom Milli seems to develop an increasing fondness: Her breakout 2020 release questioned: Ho, why is you here?, which was followed by 2022’s playful, You Still Here, Ho?

The newest record beckons the audience into the trappings of the rapper’s romantic psyche, demonstrating an interesting new exploration for the artist, usually known for her infectious, distinctly feminine-coded brand of sexual and social confidence. Fine Ho, Stay offers honey-soaked “Can’t Stay Mad” (“I cannot stay mad at you...” she laments), and “Lay Up,” a saccharine confession to a lover (“This the real me!” she insists). However, three songs later, the rapper returns to the recognizable credence on bubbly track, “Tell Me What You Want,” rattling off: “Men like to talk and I hate it.”

Flo Milli’s newfound sense of intimacy between herself and the figurative Ho (or, if we’re talking about her fanbase, the Flo Millitary) doesn’t necessarily make her uncomfortable. She believes that any artist has the duty to offer the ripest parts of themself to the audience: “You can’t be an artist and then not want to share how you feel,” she says when we broach the topic of emotional privacy. “We’re selling ourselves, essentially. We’re not selling a product. We’re selling our real selves. That’s why, for me, it’s important to stay true to how I feel and put it out. People will be able to see through the fake.” Perhaps, she says, one day there might be something too personal for her to share. Now, though, is not the time. “I want things to be too personal. If I’m hiding things that I’m afraid of, how is that being true to me?”

There’s a certain absolution that can be found in living a consistent, yearslong personal truth—and it’s apparent that Flo Milli has found it. The singer is storied to have mapped nearly every element of her success since her preadolescence in Mobile, Alabama. She wrote her first song at nine, and has been rapping and performing since 11—even participating in and later dissolving an all-female rap group before she finished high school. Most of the “mapping” mythos is true: “I did plan [most of it],” she admits. “I [wanted] to be famous by age 18, because when you’re a kid, all you see are child stars... I definitely planned certain accolades that I would get, like getting on XXL or things like that. I used to speak that type of stuff.” She concedes, though, that there is always a variability to dreams: “You have free will, but certain things in life do happen unexpectedly... I don’t have that much control, but I can control where I want to go and how I want to be seen. I can control how I want to show up in the world.”

This isn’t to say Flo Milli closely associates inevitable career surprises with luck. “Sometimes, I think the world only sees the lucky part of my life. I’m not gonna lie. I definitely put hard, hard, hard, hard, hard work in. It’s not shown, but I could give you plenty of stories...” she pauses for a second. “Oh my gosh. I feel like people would have not been willing to walk in my shoes.” Flo Milli might have been fortunate, but fortune only gets one so far without a singular sense of determination—one that must still be sustained, even at the level of success she has today: “I wasn’t born into fame. It would be easy for me, now, to act like a kid in a candy store.” Now, more than ever, she tells me she has to stay focused. I ask her if she’s planned for the future—one, five, or 10 years ahead. “No,” she replies, laughing. It’s been a lifetime of planning. Now, Flo Milli operates from a space of happiness and joy.

And, just as Flo Milli is reaping the benefits of her decades-long ambition, so too is she enjoying the benefits of her joyous ethos. The rapper, who first achieved virality in 2019 following “Beef FloMix” and “In The Party,” (the latter being my personal inductee to Songs With Greatest Opening Lines of All Time and a perennially memeable accelerant to the songstress’ online success), has emerged through years of social-media hegemony relatively unscathed. Flo Milli has one of the most universally-liked and least controversy-ridden online presences to date, as confirmed by her consistent collaborations with industry paragons across the board like SZA, Cardi B, Gunna, Monaleo, and Anycia.

Milli is vehemently against anyone—journalists, sycophants, or industry middlemen—using her name as a vehicle for their own political or social posturing. She’s made numerous public statements dissolving any manufactured drama between her and any other female rappers. Fine Ho, Stay, is riddled with this sentiment: in “Neva,” she confirms that she has never and will never: be a hater turned fan, speak on another b*tch’s name, have a man she couldn’t claim, or have to clout-chase for fame. Most importantly, though, never in her life will Flo Milli let you play around with her name.

Flo Milli certainly doesn’t play around with her own name. She unabashedly bumps her own music—quite often, actually. “I’m not going to lie. I’m sure the neighbors can hear it, but anytime I’m just bored and I don’t want to listen to any other artists, I’m just like, ‘All right, let me put on my stuff.’” She thinks her music is ideal to listen to in situations where “you’re just vibing.” The car. The house. Drinking wine. Getting ready. Sparking a blunt. Mostly, she likes to listen to her music: “When it’s unreleased. That’s when I listen the most because [there’s] no outside influence... It’s just me and my opinion.”

Funnily enough, even when it pertains to her own work, Flo Milli shies away from consuming media that’s too popular. “I know that it’s, like, weird,” she laughs, “but with TV or music, if it’s popular, I’m going to wait till [the hype has] died down until I dive into it, so I can feel like I’m the only one watching it.” This sense of solitude, it seems, is the creative nucleus behind much of the young rapper’s work. The audience might feel a sense of companionship with her, through her music—one might delight in the mirthful currency that’s exchanged on the inside—but, always hovering just a little closer to the creative hearth than possible for any outsider, stands Flo Milli alone, giggling at the listener behind a closed hand, asking: “Ho, why is you here?”

Flo Milli is (unsurprisingly) a fan of her own music, is (unsurprisingly) her own style icon: “I can’t pinpoint my own style. I will say that I love looking sexy all the time,” she says. When I ask about her recent inspirations, sonic or style-wise, she doesn’t get mired in specifics. “When you hang around five rich people, you’re likely to be the sixth one,” she tells me. “Whoever you see me around, nine times out of ten, I’m inspired by them.” Given the artist’s recent proximity to any number of artists who share her lofty place on the lauded Billboard Hot 100, it might be safe to assume that, nine times out of ten, they’re also inspired by her. This summer, the artist will support Gunna (with whom she shares award-winning manager, Ebonie Ward) on his Bittersweet tour. From there? Unclear, but certainly working, as always.

“Are you just in this for the money or the clout?” Flo Milli posits the hypothetical in the middle of our phone call, but it sounds like she’s asked it—or been asked it—hundreds of times. “Or are you the type of artist that is in this for the longevity of it? For the passion of making music? Because you care about the art?” Flo Milli shouldn’t have to answer these kinds of questions. She’s worked to provide the answers, over and over again.

Why is she here? Because she’s good at it. Because she loves it.

Is she still here? After twelve years and counting.

Fine, Stay. Flo Milli plans to. For a very, very long time. 

Photographed by Mark Clennon

Styled by Taisha Suero

Written by Annie Bush

Hair: Ricky Wing

Makeup: Corey Rodriguez

Flaunt Film: David Hightower

Art Director/Set Design: Jack Taylor Jr

Movement Director: Zoe Rappaport

Stylist Assistant: Alexis Fyall

Location: The Aster