Houston rap isn't exactly known for being "soft," but even by 1990s Texas standards, Lil Troy was playing for keeps. If you grew up listening to the swishas and the syrup-thick beats of the South, you know "Wanna Be A Baller." It’s a classic. A masterpiece. But tucked away on that same 1999 platinum album Sittin' Fat Down South is a track that carries a completely different energy. It's mean. It's targeted.
Honestly, Lil Troy Still A Bitch (the actual song title is slightly more censored on the radio, but we all know what he's saying) is one of the most fascinating artifacts of the era. It’s a song built on pure, unadulterated petty. While most rappers were busy trying to sound like the biggest kingpin in the room, Troy used this track to basically call out his rivals for being exactly what the title suggests.
The Beef That Built a Banger
You have to understand the landscape of Houston in the late 90s to get why this track hits so hard. Lil Troy wasn't just a rapper; he was a businessman. He founded Short Stop Records. He had the money—reportedly from his "previous life" on the streets—and he was the guy putting everyone else on.
But money brings mess.
The song features Ardis and the legendary Willie D of the Geto Boys. Now, Willie D is the patron saint of "not caring about your feelings." Having him on a track titled like this is like bringing a flamethrower to a knife fight. People often ask: who was the song about?
✨ Don't miss: Priyanka Chopra Latest Movies: Why Her 2026 Slate Is Riskier Than You Think
While Lil Troy has been cagey about naming every single name over the years, the streets always knew. Much of the vitriol was directed at former associates and rappers Troy felt had turned their backs on him or acted "ho-ish" once the money started flowing. There was a specific, long-standing tension with Scarface and other members of the Rap-A-Lot circle. Houston was a small pond with very big sharks, and Troy was tired of the water being muddy.
Why Lil Troy Still A Bitch Stands Out
Musically, the song is a weird paradox. It’s got this soul-inflected, almost "country-soul" twang to it. The beat, produced by Bruce "Grim" Rhodes, is actually quite smooth. You could almost cruise to it if you weren't listening to the lyrics where they are essentially dismantling someone's entire reputation.
Sentences are short here. They bite.
"You're a die-hoe."
"Still a bitch in my book."
It’s the repetition that gets you. It’s not a complex lyrical miracle. It’s a statement of fact from Troy’s perspective. He isn't trying to out-rap you with metaphors about celestial bodies; he’s trying to tell the neighborhood you can't be trusted.
🔗 Read more: Why This Is How We Roll FGL Is Still The Song That Defines Modern Country
The Tragic Legacy of the Album
It’s impossible to talk about Sittin' Fat Down South without acknowledging the "curse" that fans still talk about today. Lil Troy's biggest hit, "Wanna Be A Baller," is famous for its incredible lineup. But look at what happened to them. Fat Pat? Murdered before the song even peaked. Big Hawk? Murdered years later. Lil' Will? Killed in a car accident.
Troy himself has lived a wild life since then. He went to federal prison shortly after the album's success. He survived a horrific truck fire in 2021 where his 18-wheeler (yes, the platinum rapper became a professional truck driver) was engulfed in flames. He literally walked out of the fire.
The fact that Lil Troy Still A Bitch remains such a staple in Southern playlists is a testament to how authentic it felt. It wasn't "industry" beef. It wasn't a PR stunt to sell records. It was a man with a microphone and a grudge, backed by the coldest member of the Geto Boys.
Is the Beef Still Alive in 2026?
Most of the people involved have either passed away or reached an age where the energy to maintain a 30-year-old grudge has evaporated. Troy has mostly moved on to his trucking business and his family life, occasionally popping up for interviews where he looks back at the "Baller" era with a mix of pride and "man, that was crazy."
💡 You might also like: The Real Story Behind I Can Do Bad All by Myself: From Stage to Screen
But the song? It doesn't age. When it comes on in a club in Third Ward or a BBQ in Pearland, people still scream the chorus. Because everyone has someone in their life who they feel fits that description. It’s universal pettiness.
How to Appreciate the History
If you want to actually "get" the song and the era, you shouldn't just stream the clean version. You need to find the original 1998/1999 pressings. You need to hear the "chopped and screwed" versions by DJ Screw or Michael Watts to understand the pace of Houston life.
What to do next:
- Listen to the Willie D verse again. Notice how he doesn't raise his voice? That’s the scariest part.
- Watch the interview footage. Lil Troy has some great sit-downs on YouTube from the last few years where he explains the founding of Short Stop Records.
- Check out Mass 187. If you want to hear where Troy's production ear started, their 1996 debut is a must-listen for Southern rap purists.
The reality is that Lil Troy didn't need to be the best lyricist in the world. He had the vision, the beats, and the audacity to say what everyone else was whispering. That’s why the song still matters.