The album is packed with quite a few anthemic ditties that rely heavily on thrashing percussion and sonic earthquakes. But worst/best/worst of all, as far as I’m concerned, is what could likely be considered a follow-up to Baby Mama, a cut off her debut album, Free Yourself.
On Baby Makin’ Hips, the theme remains the same, but instead of applauding babies having babies, Fantastia rewards the voluptuous curves that so finely housed the initial seed. “Damn, that’s a shame what you’re doing to that hula hoop!” drawls the voice of a drooling passerby played at half speed over the opening fade-in of jarring horns blasting at the start of each measure.
Piling on the cheese is Fantasia, sounding familiarly furious, spewing out lyrics so passionately that I actually can’t make out what she’s saying, except to know she means business. Really, she means business.
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The anthem illustrates the weakness men harbor for a “wobble wobble shaped…like a cola bottle,” a lyric as bizarre as it is awesome, but it’s no matter. Fantasia’s no poet, but with the horns sounding off throughout (albeit not as fittingly as with the Chi-Lites sample in Beyonce’s Crazy In Love), it’s hard not to love hearing anyone — although, it’s especially bittersweet when coming from a former illiterate — praise an “itty bitty waist [with] hip-hips all in they face.”
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