EP Review: 30. (EP) by Queen Naija
Queen Naija enters her thirties with a project that looks back while pivoting forward. Over eight tracks, she deals heartbreak diaries for a balanced mix of self‑care, sensuality and ambition.
Long before she turned 30, Queen Naija Bulls built a fanbase on YouTube and even auditioned for American Idol. Her breakthrough single “Medicine” (2017) cracked the Billboard Hot 100’s top 50, and its follow‑ups “Karma” and “Butterflies” went double platinum. These songs, along with “Mama’s Hand” and “Bad Boy,” formed the backbone of her 2018 self‑titled EP, a collection that mapped heartbreak, betrayal and motherhood. That EP peaked at number 26 on the Billboard 200 and was followed by her debut album, Missunderstood, in 2020, which reached number nine on the same chart. Even as she became a streaming powerhouse, Naija remained relatable: her family vlogs kept fans invested in her story, and she parlayed songs like “Pack Lite” and “Hate Our Love” into RIAA certifications.
For the project she called 30., the day she turned 30, she hiked a mountain, watched the sunset and decided to reset; after years of documenting every high and low, she now wants to “quiet the noise” and balance peace and family Looking back on her twenties, she sees how heartbreak and healing shaped her, yet she is keen to prove she’s more than a heartbreak singer—she insists she was born to do this and can sing anything. “It’s just me walking into my 30s,” she explained, noting that she felt her brain “make this switch” and that she has grown and learned more than she imagined. Executive producers No I.D. and Poo Bear help her channel that growth into eight compact tracks.
The EP opens with “Thirty,” a stormy, self‑deprecating introduction. Over a slow‑burning R&B groove with swirling keys and minimal drums, Naija rummages through her anxieties: life is getting hectic, she’ll be thirty soon, she has “shit to do” and “shit to lose”. She jokes about losing ten pounds, paying the IRS and needing to call her therapist. When it comes to the hook (“Ooh, thirty, please be sweet to me/Don’t you do me dirty”), you sing it like it’s a prayer or a pep talk. Take your pick. She literally talks herself up down the line, staring into the mirror and telling herself she’s “all that and a bag of chips. Her voice, deeper and more measured than on early singles, carries the vulnerability without oversinging.
From there, 30. oscillates between mood‑boosters and slow burns. “Put It On (Eat)” draws you into her world to admire her Chrome Hearts cheeks and “sweet tooth,” and she is unapologetic about outshining everyone: “Forgive me if I shine too bright, my heart’s full of light”. The playful beat matches the self‑love message, but the track feels like a sketch rather than a song. But then, “I Deserve” is a fully fledged grown‑woman manifesto: she lists the joys she’s earned—good sex, rest, Bali sunsets, paychecks and assets—and insists on reciprocity. Her conversational delivery over buttery guitars makes it one of the EP’s strongest moments.
“What U Looking 4 (WYL4)” revisits heartbreak with more maturity. She recalls giving her partner unlimited access and believing him when he called her a princess, yet instead of anger, she wishes him well. The Afrobeat‑tinged groove and wordless post‑chorus lighten the mood. On “Hopeful Romantic,” she copes with trust issues and asks whether she likes pain because her heart keeps breaking. The pre‑chorus and chorus are candid, but some lines about always having a main course and needing to be “wine and dine me like the ‘90s” read like slogans. Still, the duet with Cash Cobain feels genuine, and the hook is sticky.
The EP’s sensual center is less subtle. “Tipsy” paints a scene of her waiting up in his T‑shirt, ready to “throw it back” once he returns from drinking Casamigos. The hook is essentially the word “tipsy,” and the narrative remains skin‑deep. “Rain” extends the metaphors: sex is so intense that her body trembles and she needs her soul back; it’s sultry but occasionally cartoonish when she compares his anatomy to a maniac, causing a cardiac arrest. “My Man,” featuring Mariah the Scientist, turns a TikTok‑meme catchphrase into a playful brag: Naija brags that his mind and heart are on lock and he’ll buy her Prada, while Mariah flips the script, noting she’s giving a friend a promotion to boyfriend. The call‑and‑response structure is fun, though the constant repetition may test listeners who crave more depth.
At just eight tracks and barely 20 minutes, 30. is intentionally concise, offering a snapshot rather than a full‑length statement. The executive production ensures cohesion, but there are moments where the beats feel undercooked or the songs end just as they begin to build. Still, the EP represents a clear step in Queen Naija’s artistic evolution. She uses her 30th birthday not as a gimmick but as a checkpoint to affirm her growth and recalibrate her priorities. Long‑time fans will appreciate the mix of lover‑girl vulnerability and confident independence, while new listeners may be drawn to the breezier production and candid lyrics. The record doesn’t reinvent her sound, but it does set a more mature tone for the next decade.
Favorite Track(s): “Thirty,” “What U Looking 4 (WYL4),” “I Deserve”