Lyrics
(Process)
I should let you know (know)
I’m loving how you dey do me slow (slow)
Baby, kò s’ẹlòmi, you already know
Got every head turning, I see the press coming
So what you telling me now?
Who’s that girl? Who’s that girl? What’s popping?
Bad gyal, there’s no stopping what’s coming
Feeling the energy, adrenaline rushing
Real talk na real talk, they wanna know, oh
(Who’s that girl?)
Guess you never heard of me, I’m popping out like confetti
(Who’s that girl?)
No fit clone mi energy, ’cause I’m the one they wanna see
(Who’s that girl?)
Guess you never heard of me, I’m popping out like confetti
(Who’s that girl?)
No fit clone mi energy, ’cause I’m the one they wanna see
Uh
Yes, gyal
You ‘posed to know other gyal dem no reach
It’s just time, gyal
Push up, push up
Step in the party, all Balenci’, see body
All my Gs dey low-key pree
Take am easy on me, you get too much steeze
If you gimme body, I fit need EMT
Black Powerpuff Girl, I’m a villain
Take me as your prisoner, since you stand for justice
I dey find who bad pass you with binocular
Gyal champion, graceful echelon
Mi know say you get rugged side, you no be bọti
Mi get plans to cop and run away with you like Michael Scofield
Normally, you no get any competition, but you the trophy
Not tryna gas you, everybody know this, you the baddie
I said “the,” not “a,” do you copy? Bad gyal, she the life of the party
Gyal dem wan link up ’cause they need assist
Say many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many gyals dem dey
But not many gyals sabi
She one of one, dangerous
And every time she got me like
Who’s that girl? Who’s that girl? What’s popping? (Who?)
Bad gyal, there’s no stopping what’s coming (no)
Feeling the energy, adrenaline rushing
Real talk na real talk, they wanna know, oh
(Who’s that girl? Uh)
Guess you never heard of me, I’m popping out like confetti
(Who’s that girl? Who’s that girl?)
No fit clone mi energy, ’cause I’m the one they wanna see
(Who’s that girl? Who’s that girl?)
Guess you never heard of me, I’m popping out like confetti (uh)
(Who’s that girl? Who’s that girl?)
No fit clone mi energy, ’cause I’m the one they wanna see
Smooth flow like a river (uh-huh)
If I catch beat, I dey wan panel beat am (yeah)
Cruise Santa Monica (uh-huh)
I dey motivate like Ken Saro-Wiwa (boom)
Borderline moves (ah), fire like Zeus (ah), carry my tools
If you get the mind, f’áyá gbè (ah)
If you get the mind, f’áyá gbè
So what you telling me now?
Who’s that girl? Who’s that girl? What’s popping?
Bad gyal, there’s no stopping what’s coming
Feeling the energy, adrenaline rushing
Real talk na real talk, they wanna know, oh
Song Meaning & Explanation
Who's Dat Girl — Ayra Starr & Rema
There's a particular swagger that only arrives when an artist stops asking for attention and starts describing what happens when they already have it. That's the engine of "Who's Dat Girl": less a love song than a victory lap dressed up as flirtation.
Ayra Starr opens on intimacy — that slow, possessive "loving how you dey do me slow" — before the song pivots hard into spectacle. The hook itself, that repeated "who's that girl?", functions as both crowd chatter and self-mythology; she's narrating her own entrance as if she's already watching it happen from the outside. "Popping out like confetti" is the standout image here — bright, disposable-seeming on its surface, but it nails the specific feeling of arriving somewhere and instantly becoming the only thing in the room.
Rema's verse shifts the register from confidence to menace, and it's where the writing gets genuinely playful. "Black Powerpuff Girl, I'm a villain" is a strange, funny left turn that shouldn't work and mostly does, especially chained to the Michael Scofield line — cartoon and prison-break references sitting side by side, unbothered by consistency because the whole verse is built on flex logic, not narrative logic. "I said 'the,' not 'a'" is the sharpest single bar on the track, a grammar joke doing real characterization work.
Where it sags slightly is the back half — "fire like Zeus," "motivate like Ken Saro-Wiwa" — reference-dropping that reaches for weight it doesn't fully earn, more texture than meaning. The Yoruba and Pidgin code-switching, though, keeps the whole thing feeling lived-in rather than exported for global consumption.
It's not a song interested in vulnerability, and it doesn't pretend to be. It's a mirror held up at a party, and it knows exactly how good the reflection looks.
7/10
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