Behind the Lyrics: Lil Rick on legacy, lyrics and living for the people

With a career spanning over three decades, Lil Rick—the man of many names and even more riddims—has become a living legend in Barbados’ musical landscape.

Known for his frenetic stage energy, witty lyrics, and crowd-hyping mastery, he’s also a deep thinker, a storyteller, and above all, a humble but proud Bajan son of the soil.

He introduces himself like no one else: “Yeah, this is Lil Rick, Rickey Reid, aka the Hypa Dog, Chihuahua Business Man, Board Face, T-111, Ricky Minaj, the people’s boss,” he says with signature swagger. “You done know how we do it. Respect. Every time.”

From bashment to ballads, there’s a method to his madness—and an unshakable love for the culture that raised him.

“I got something for everybody,” he said. Lil Rick doesn’t believe in a one-size-fits-all approach to music. He writes for everybody. “I always want to know what youngsters like, what old people like, what middle-aged people like…. Even what Christians might appreciate,” he says. “When I’m doing songwriting, I got the people in mind.”

His goal is to meet listeners where they are—across age, lifestyle, and vibe.

“It’s not like I just trying to do a lot of songs. It’s that all the songs ain’t the same. I will do a groovy song for the groovy people, bashment for the bashment people. You like a bad boy song? Boom—I write one for that too.”

And with a grin, he adds: “You get a song. You get a song. You get a song. Everybody gets one!”

Writing is a whole artform

For Lil Rick, songwriting is not just about catchy lyrics — it’s about imagination, emotion, and sometimes, pure instinct.

“Songs just come. You might spend all the time perfecting a song, everything polished, and that ain’t the one that hit,” he explains. “But the one you just vibe on? That’s the one that touch people.”

He likens it to school assignments: “It’s like a teacher telling you write a composition about a deer at a flour mill, and you never been to a flour mill. So you got to research, imagine, and then create. Same thing with songwriting.”

Sometimes he draws from personal experience. Other times, he channels emotions or tells someone else’s story.

“You might sit down and say, I want to write something that’ll make people cry. So you got to research and find what touches people. That’s how songs like Call 911 came about.”

Still, he’s not a man to overthink.

“My writing process? Natural. Real. And exploring,” he added. “I never stray from my culture.”

Even as genres evolve, Rick’s Bajan essence remains.

“Even if I do reggae, it still got that Barbados flow in it. You might say, ‘This is reggae,’ but you can still hear my accent, my culture. I don’t try to copy. I fuse. I going to do my ragga… and my Bajan.”

It’s this fusion that he believes will help soca grow globally, if we allow it to.

“Soca could be international. It’s heading that direction—slowly. But we got to let it go sometimes,” he says.

Citing A Voice In My Head by Edwin Yearwood as a perfect example, he adds: “It was so different and fresh, and he get fight down for that. We don’t want to let go of the old ways. But the world is changing. If you don’t shift with it, you get lost.”

Storytelling songs always last

When asked what makes a song timeless, Rick doesn’t hesitate. “Check and see—all storytelling songs last. Look at Hard Wine—came out in 1996 and people still loving it. Not because it’s the sweetest melody or best production, but because it’s impactful. It’s real.”

He even comments on newer writing styles: “Lyrics getting simpler, yeah. But some of those songs, after two, three years when the hype gone you’ll realise, ‘Wait, I was partying to this deep song!’”

Still, he holds onto the value of songs that draw people in: “Red Plastic Bag used to make you sit at the front of your chair. That’s the type of writing I love—it’s like you reading a book.”

It’s about the people

Rick’s career has never been about awards or accolades. It’s about people.

“My movement is based off of the people. I doing this for them. Even on stage, I would naturally never drink a whole bottle of water in one go. But when I got it in my hand, and I feel the crowd? Yeah, man, I drinking all!”

Even when the money wasn’t there, he still performed for the people: “I come from a very, very poor family. So I know what it is to have nothing. That’s why if a promoter can’t pay, I still perform. Because I know the struggle. And I do this for the people.”

He recalls times when he got heavy criticism, especially from music veterans.

“One of the men who used to lash me early was Admiral. But I never take it as hate. I took it as, ‘what can I do to make him hush up?’” he says, laughing. “And one year, he finally say, ‘Rick is on fire this year’. I say ‘Yes! I outside!’”

Lil Rick not done yet

Even after 30 years of hits, Rick isn’t thinking about retirement. In fact, he believes his best work may still be ahead.

“If I had the writing skill I got now, back when I write songs like We Surviving, that song wouldda be even madder. You can’t beat the times. I learned from every era. I took criticism and used it constructively. And I still learning.”

When asked what advice he’d give his younger self, he pauses and smiles: “I’d tell him, ‘just get better at your thing. Keep learning. And never stop loving the people’.”

Lil Rick is still outside. Still writing. Still giving every man, woman and child a song.

And most importantly: “I still humble. I know where I come from. And I doing this for the people — always for the people.”

tracymoore@barbadostoday.bb