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By Rebecca Bulnes
By Laurie Charles
By Chuck Strouse
By Lee Zimmerman
By Laurie Charles
By Falyn Freyman
By Hans Morgenstern
There was no doubt, as 2012 began, that Kenisha "Tip Drill" Myree was at the top of Miami's stripper food chain. The biggest draw at Miami Gardens megaclub King of Diamonds, she pulled in as much as ten grand a shift. There were a couple of nights, she says, when she brought home $20,000.
Thanks to a jaw-dropping signature act, which involved sliding headfirst down a 32-foot pole before stopping inches from the ground, and KOD's popularity among high-rolling rap heavyweights, she'd become a hip-hop celebrity, name-checked in lyrics by the Game and others. An accidental appearance on MSNBC talk show Morning Joe last January even gave her a dose of mainstream fame.
But then things came crashing down — literally. In the early morning of February 18, Tip Drill's act went horribly wrong. As she slid down the King of Diamonds pole, an unknown object shook her balance, and she smashed, face-first, onto the stage. Though she recovered quickly enough to appear in Nicki Minaj's "Beez in the Trap" video a few weeks later, she suffered a broken jaw and fractured cheekbones, as well as lost a kidney. She quit King of Diamonds and vowed to stop stripping.
Fast-forward 18 months, and Tip Drill the stripper is now Tip Drill the rapper. With years of hard knocks and even harder partying behind her, the 26-year-old has her sights set on becoming Miami's most successful female MC since another ex-stripper, Trina, left the pole for the mike.
On a muggy night in early July, New Times finds Myree, clad in tight black athletic shorts, a matching black top, and a pink beanie emblazoned with the word "Ratchet" over her bleached-blond hair, at work inside CT Music Studios in Sunrise. A cognac-filled Solo cup at the ready, she's recording a track called "No Time for Dat" for Shit Happens, an upcoming mixtape, whose title references both the unfortunate incident at KOD and her fondness for toilet humor.
"I was rapping before, but it wasn't my main priority, so I had to make people understand why I was transitioning," she says of the evocative title. "And it was because shit happens. I had to do it. And then I'm always taking shits."
Her every move at the studio is captured by a cameraman taping scenes for a reality show project she and her close friend, fellow stripper and former New Times sex columnist Skrawberry, were planning to shop about their efforts to transition out of dancing. (The idea has since been scrapped in favor of a live-streaming online chat show based on the twosome's colorful Twitter presence.)
In the year and a half since she's begun rapping seriously, Tip has recorded tracks with Trina, Gunplay, and Ace Hood, opened shows for Chief Keef and Jim Jones, and hit the studio with stalwart producers Cool and Dre. But success in the rap world has been slow to come. Her fame is certainly no greater now than it was in the dancing days: Google "Tip Drill," and the top result is a February 20, 2012 story about her fall at KOD by rap news site BallerStatus.com.
She issued some attention-grabbing artwork for Shit Happens late last year — the cover shows her lounging on a toilet, pants around her ankles — but the mixtape still has not been released. "Everything is about timing. It has to be right on cue," she says of the delay. "Especially since I'm trying to transition from a stripper to a rapper, it's hard to make people take me seriously."
Though her output thus far — a run-of-the-mill club track with Lil Scrappy called "Bands" and the trash-talking "Yeah Ho!" — has not been earth-shattering, it's clear that she's approaching her new job with total professionalism. She records numerous takes of each line and frets over the smallest details.
"I don't think there are people who are doing what I do," she says of her approach to rap. "All the female rappers now look like Nicki Minaj. They're all fine; they all got their butt done.
"When I want to be sexy, I can do it," she shrugs. "But I burp, shit, fart, and do all the stuff that men do. It's not in my character to be feminine like them. I don't get my nails done. Nobody else is like me. They're all just girls."
Raised on Long Island and in Coral Springs, Kenisha Myree grew up rough. Her parents sold drugs and went to prison, and she herself spent time in a group home after getting caught stealing cars, among other infractions. At 16, she'd already tried stripping. "I got caught lying, so I had to stop," she says. Two years later, after giving birth to her son, she was back on the pole.
She eventually found her way to King of Diamonds just as the club, owned by late strip-club magnate Jack Galardi and managed by Miami bass pioneer Disco Rick, was finding its way into hip-hop legend via WorldStarHipHop video clips and lyrical endorsements from the likes of Rick Ross and Lil Wayne. But like many of the patrons recklessly throwing rent money at KOD's dancers, she got a little too caught up in "the life," she says. Her fall, while physically exacting, proved to be the eye-opener that jolted her from an unsustainable lifestyle.