MOLIY is easy to root for. In 2020, the Ghanaian singer was only 19, with one EP under her belt, when her sirenic performance on “SAD GIRLZ LUV MONEY” ratioed Amaarae on her own debut album and led to a Hot 100-charting remix featuring Kali Uchis. In 2024, MOLIY’s shy-girl dancehall single “SHAKE IT TO THE MAX (FLY)” was inescapable, launching a viral TikTok trend and getting remixed no fewer than five times. MOLIY’s specialty is courting excess without ever sounding extra. Who doesn’t like to party or shake it to the max? What sad girl doesn’t love money? And when I hear a nasty dancehall riddim, best believe I’m going to tell my homegirl, “go on, bend your back.” Her discography is more like a spellbook, her alluring, delicate vocals capable of turning the simplest commands into an all-night rager.

As Spotify’s most-streamed Ghanaian artist since 2025, MOLIY puts on for country whose women are underrepresented in global pop, and her new mixtape BADDIES <3 MOLIY is all about giving them the spotlight they deserve. Over 12 tracks, she layers Brazilian funk, reggaeton, EDM, Y2K hip-hop, Jersey club, dancehall, amapiano, alté, azonto, and bouyon on a bedrock of sultry Afro-pop. It’s intended to fuel the ultimate VIP section, reclaiming the elevated platforms from the glitter garment brigade. But this bad girls’ club falls a few links short of an iced-out chain. MOLIY knows how to set the tone with vivacious hooks and fluid flows, but her pragmatic approach to pop obscures another side of her, one that might flesh out the world of her songs beyond the velvet rope.

MOLIY’s in her element on “BOUNCE.” Her voice is lethal and the subtle glitches (“bou-ou-ounce”) add just the right amount of animated flair. Her knack for addictive hooks and sticky refrains shines here—the way she sings “c’mon arrivederci” is singular and satisfying, and the production is wicked enough to incite communal bouncing, from the lurching drums to the outro’s exhilarating jama infusion. The Afro-house joint “BODY GO,” featuring Tyla, also commands the club with ease. MOLIY frames the song with a tantalizing intro and a simple, instructive chorus, while Tyla elevates the energy: When her crisp South African accent curls around the line, “Everybody here want tea/Can’t be giving out the recipe to everybody I see/To everybody that prees,” it hits like another stamp in my passport.

“BACKIE” is the undeniable knockout. Bouyon will always win over the club: Its crossover impact has been simmering for the last few years, and 2026 has been a banner year for Dominica’s electronic export. This is MOLIY’s sharpest writing on the record, corralling chaos and channeling the genre’s thunder in lines like, “I don't need colaaaaa.” It’s got it all: Galloping drumlines, hype-inducing handclaps, and whistleblows that transport you to a hotbed of carnival debauchery. Love a song that makes you put that phone down and shake sum.

Some of her attempts at other styles are half-baked, though. “TOMETO” is promising at first, the percussive intro and synths like wind in your hair. But the Brazilian funk rhythm devolves into a too-familiar fusion of EDM and Afrobeats; cue the predictable cryo smoke. What saves the track is MOLIY’s classic coo, especially on the hook: “I'm a fine lady, oh, juicy tomato/See as I dey waka, then he want to choppy-o.” Not only is it a regionally accurate (Ghanaian tomato stew, anyone?) way to describe homegrown thickness, it’s also just fun to say. Add this one to the list after Georgia peach and uva bombón.

The biggest miss is “BUCKSHOT,” a hodgepodge of hackneyed references. Dancefloors don’t need another “Tokyo Drift” edit, and blending in Trinidadian legend Denise Belfon’s “Work” has been done before. MOLIY is supposed to set trends, not follow them. The same holds true for “POPSTAR xoxo,” which takes a heavy scoop of “Kiss Me Thru the Phone” with little to show for it. The Auto-Tuned bars and Jersey club beat are the opposite of risk-taking, and there’s no story or compelling images to anchor the song’s ostensible concept—just some guy who has her name tatted on him, as if that’s the most a popstar could hope for; I thought the ladies were supposed to leave their men at home.

In fact, the space she devotes to men here feels antithetical to the whole point of the mixtape. “Baddie” is a catch-all term for empowerment, regardless of beauty standards or capitalistic markers of success. It’s an unweighted spectrum, from French tips and IG models to hospital workers and taking care of your kids. Descended from a long lineage of Black American wordsmithing—from James Brown’s “Super Bad” to Michael Jackson’s “Bad” to Donna Summer’s “Bad Girls”—the word “baddie” is used by women, queer people, and gender-nonconforming folk to fix each others’ crowns. “ACCRA GIRLS” is the song that best represents the idea here: Calm and poised, MOLIY’s half-English, half-Twi bars remind us that African women were and always will be the original design.

BADDIES <3 MOLIY marks an important step for the 24-year-old artist, as her first foray into straight-up, high-octane club bangers. On WONDERGIRL and Honey Doom, she sharpened her melodic skills in wavy bedroom experiments inspired by Nigeria’s alté scene like “Jonny” and “Body on Fire.” Bits of that era break through on the bodyrolling “PARTYGAL,” with Berlin/London DJ collective bees & honey, but too much of the mixtape lacks the consistent edge and nastiness that dancefloors crave. “PRETTY MAMI”’s nocturnal slow-whine session with Mavo says it all: “Gimme some peace, gimme some time, gimme some tension.” Give her some time; MOLIY’s still figuring it out.