Get Hip to Tink's Best Songs Before Her Debut Album Drops Next Year

During his visit to Power 105.1’s The Breakfast Club earlier this week, Timbaland gushed over Chicago double-threat Tink, the rapper and singer who officially signed to his Mosley Music Group imprint last month: “She was music, and she saved my life…. You can’t believe somebody at 19 got it. We don’t see that no more. The past person we saw [like her] was Drake.” Strong words, but for those who’ve been following Tink (born Trinity Home, in Calumet City, between Chicago and Hammond, Ind.) since her startlingly mature 2012 debut, Winter’s Diary, it was only a matter of time before she blew up.

Over two years and five mixtapes, ranging from tough-talking drill to vulnerable, super-sexy R&B—and slaying at both—Tink’s been bubbling just under the radar, and with Timbaland’s passionate co-sign, it feels like it’s finally her time. On “Movin' Bass,” which Timbo premiered on The Breakfast Club, she trades verses with Jay Z and Rick Ross like a seasoned pro, and though the official version of the track ultimately landed on Ross’ Hood Billionaire album sans Tink, it’s the biggest look of her career so far.

With her debut album—executive produced by Timbaland, naturally—in the works for next year via Epic Records and Mosley Music Group, Tink’s days as a cult favorite are numbered, and that’s a good thing. Until then, it’s not too late to get familiar (or re-acquaint yourself) with her catalog, which runs deep for her deceptively brief couple years in the game. From sex jams to broken-hearted ballads to drill bangers, we’ve compiled the 11 best Tink songs: Get in tune.

Meaghan Garvey is an artist and writer, born in Chicago and currently living in Brooklyn. She's on Twitter @moneyworth.

Tink was in the middle of her junior year in high school when she dropped Winter’s Diary, but it was a disarmingly mature debut, both in terms of craft and lyrical content. Early adopters marveled at the R&B-centric tape’s emotional (and sometimes sexual) maturity: Topics ranged from late-night rendezvous soundtracked by Marvin Gaye, re-building your self-esteem after a partner betrays your trust, and shelving emotions to maintain a strictly friends-with-benefits relationship. But the project’s clear stand-out was “Bonnie and Clyde,” a shimmering ballad from the trenches of infatuation, detailing her ride-or-die relationship with a guy who’s been through some shit (“And I know that he loves me, ’cause I give him what the streets can’t”). It was the perfect balance of romance and realism: as starry-eyed as first love, and as icy as Chicago in February.

Though Winter’s Diary mostly framed Tink as an R&B singer, there were a few moments when she diverged from sultry balladry for fierce, cocky rapping, and while she’d hone her spitting skills further on her next mixtape, her range was already promising. “Bad Girl” was twinkly but tough (not to mention the beat sounded like an early blueprint for “Started From the Bottom”), letting you know that her being whip-smart didn’t make her a goody two-shoes. It was full of snarky punchlines delivered in a crisp snarl: “Catwalk, cheetah-print leggings for these bitches, hoes staring me down like that fridge in the kitchen.”

Less than six months after releasing Winter’s Diary, Tink drastically pivoted with her sophomore project, Alter Ego, ditching the soulful singing for scowling, straightforward raps, fitting right in with the flinty drill music that was making waves in and outside of Chicago. The tape’s best song was “Fingers Up,” a snotty, no-fucks-given banger. It was also Tink’s first great music video, shot by Chicago’s best videographer, DGainz, and proof that she had the on-camera star power to back up her talent. One of the most underwritten qualities of the drill subgenre is how inclusive the playing field was, and still is, for women: In 2012, rappers like Sasha Go Hard and Katie Got Bandz were releasing music just as hard-hitting as Chief Keef or King Louie, and “Fingers Up” was no exception.

Tink’s third mixtape, Blunts & Ballads, tends to get overshadowed by her more stylistically consistent tapes: of her five full-length releases to date, four of them tend to stick to either predominantly rapping or singing. But Blunts & Ballads, which evenly split the difference between her two modes, might be her most essential project. At a concise nine tracks, the tape demonstrated the full range of her talents and featured some of her most accomplished songs yet. Tracks like “What You Drivin” and “Dat Ain’t Me” had her trading bars with guys like Lil Durk and Edai, but best of all was sing-songy rap cut “When I’m Lit,” with its sharp, snappy beat and blunted lyrics about growing bored of a love interest.

Lyrically, it represented Tink at her strongest: honest, relatable, and not afraid to be harsh (“What if I told you told you that I care, but I don’t care enough/Told him it was on silent, but it wasn’t, I just ain’t pick up”). And it found a sweet spot in between rapping and singing, showcasing her rhyme skills but still working outside the mold of what one might have come to expect from Chicago rap.

Another prime example of Tink’s growing confidence in her own talents, and finding the point between rapping and singing that best suits her style, is “Rarris and Rovers,” another cut from Blunts & Ballads. Its hook is a reference to Chief Keef’s “Love Sosa,” but much like the rest of the tape, the track has Tink forging her own lane in the Chicago rap scene, switching seamlessly back and forth from curt, fuck-your-feelings rapping to syrupy sing-song. She gorgeously harmonizes with herself on the flirty but firm hook, warning her man: “We gon count these millions, just don’t catch no feelings.” Though her first two projects were impressive, it was on these songs that Tink really began to fully realize her potential as a double-threat.

On Boss Up, Tink’s fourth mixtape in less than two years, she gravitated back toward straight raps, with booming beats from heavy-hitting drill producers like Young Chop and DJ L. It’s the most accomplished showcase of her spitting skills, and the tape’s highlight is “Kilo,” with guest verses from fellow Chicagoans Lil Herb and Lil Bibby and menacing production from DJ L (one of Chicago rap’s most underrated producers, whose work for Herb and Bibby clearly inspired Vinylz’ beat for Nicki Minaj’s “Chiraq” this year). Tink’s verse is full of scrappy bars like, “Three tapes in, working on my fourth/When one door doesn’t open, don’t wait on the porch.” And it was smart to pair her with Herb and Bibby: They’re three of Chicago’s most technically gifted rappers, who often use the sounds and themes of drill but elevate its efficient, unembellished lyricism to a more craftsmanlike standard.

Almost exactly two years after her debut, Winter’s Diary, Tink released its sequel—a return to the soulful, ultra-sexy R&B with which she began, and her most polished work to date. The production on Winter’s Diary 2 sounded more lush and ornate than ever, but what was most impressive was her storytelling, more confident, soul-baring, and complex than ever: vulnerable to falling in love but wary of being manipulated by scheming dudes, demanding respect from her partner but being open about just wanting to get it in sometimes, too. “HML” is a perfect showcase of Tink’s warm, honey-coated vocal range, a slick sex jam that captures the euphoria of giving in to infatuation.

Where “HML” represented Tink at her sultriest, “Talkin About” is a prime example of her at her realest: a no-punches-pulled back and forth between Tink and her increasingly distant love interest (played by Lil Herb). Her delivery is at its sharpest and quickest here, and despite the giddy romanticism of much of her music, she makes it clear that she respects herself too much to let herself be played, even if it means being alone: “Man, fuck that Gucci, just look how you do me/You think that designer make up for that shit?/I buy my own Prada, man, that’s not the problem/The problem is you too caught up with that bitch.” It’s almost like a reality check to older songs like “Bonnie and Clyde,” a reminder that loving yourself is the key to loving someone else.

“Don’t Tell Nobody,” a bright, slinky collaboration with Chicago’s prince of R&B, Jeremih, has yet to see an official release after premiering this spring. That’s a shame: It’s a picture-perfect single, with a gorgeous beat from Da Internz that wouldn’t have been out of place on Jeremih’s 2012 Late Nights mixtape. Tink’s on top of her game here, shifting from rapping to singing so deftly you barely notice the change. The track was released before Timbaland officially signed Tink to his Mosley Music Group and announced he’d be executive producing her debut album, but here’s hoping it won’t be left out.

Released this spring via Yours Truly and Adidas Originals’ Songs From Scratch series, “Men” found Tink and DJ Dahi—the producer behind Drake’s “Worst Behavior” and Kendrick’s “Money Trees”—joining forces for the second time. They originally linked on an early installment of Songs From Scratch, along with Kelela, another quiet R&B powerhouse, but “Men” takes their chemistry to another level. It’s a glossy, prismatic ballad that combines strength and vulnerability like only Tink can: “You don’t care like how I care, and that’s fucked up/And what hurts the most is you don’t want my love.”

Tink shines when she’s most vulnerable, but she’s just as good when she’s being playful, and recent loosie “ABC Fantasies” shows her at her wittiest. The half-sung, half-rapped track has her cycling alphabetically through her extensive list of contact (along the lines of Lil Wayne’s “Alphabet Fantasies”), cheekily riffing on each one: “P is for Preston, I cheated on him with Quinton, but I left that boy by his lonely when I found out they was homies.” It’s a fun exercise in wordplay, and probably won’t appear officially anywhere else, but it shows that just because Tink can get deep doesn’t mean she’s above being silly.