The female emcee is perhaps the most rare species in hip-hop music today, as every time the music evolves, its Y chromosome deficient survivors are countable on one-hand, and usually pretty easily to categorize. On one end, there are the leaders (Queen Latifah , Yo Yo), the B-girls (MC Lyte , Bahamadia ), and the songbirds (Lauryn Hill , Mystic ); each respectable for how they interpret this artform. Then, of course, on the other end of the spectrum, are the much more successful, yet equally disrespected “chickens” (Gangsta Boo, Lil Kim) and “bitches with dicks” (Foxy Brown , Da Brat , Boss), who have their own ideas of how they should act for the camera.

But because this species is so rare, and the definition of what a female emcee is changes every five years, the female emcee is never truly given her due. With the exception of the names mentioned above, overall, female emcees are disregarded in this male dominated music and culture.

If , as hypothesized, the music does evolve, along with its female representatives in tow, then enter the next manifestation of the “em-she”, Ursula Rucker . Ursula is most well known to hip-hop listeners as the woman who has closed out both The Roots’ Illadelph Halflife and Things Fall Apart albums with her introspective spoken word pieces. With Supa Sista, her first solo project, Ursula Rucker is here to sing her woman song and make you listen.

Her entrance is made with “Womansong”, her personal manifesto which will immediately grab the listener with its cool and laid back production, then even more so as the album begins to take its shape on “7″, a duet with M.A.D., exploring the trials and tribulations of holding a long-term relationship together. But she really demands the listener’s attention when challenging the face of today’s Black music on “What???”, or exploring the uplifting of her people on yin & yang tracks “Supa Sista” and “Brown Boy”. Nevertheless, despite her outspoken opinions and interesting perspectives, she may seem a little more paranoid on tracks like “Digichant”, exploring the evils of the internet, or even scarier, “Song For Billy”, a “sad but true” tale that will only be stomached once by its respective audience.

While male bravado and dick-size contests may scare away a good percentage of the hip-populace, those willing to listen to her perspectives will find this an enjoyable listen. Her robotic poetics are delivered with a cadence of the Midnight Marauders tour guide, but her voice is soothing, confident, and attractive. She’s conscious, using her poems to teach, but not getting tangled up in self-loathing coffeehouse babble. She’s smart, but her poems are not so pretentious that only she understands them. She’s not a traditional emcee who raps over “hot” production, but instead a poetess in a hip-hop mindstate, who delivers her lyrics over the smooth, jazzy sounds of Illadelph. Ursula Rucker has a lot to say, and demands your respect, and if you still refuse to give it to her, it’s even more important that you check this album out.