Missy Elliot is on a roll. First, she stole the Adidas look from the kings of rap, and now she’s stealing Lil’ Kim’s patented G-string.

And to think, last year around this time, Missy Elliot was prancing around as the fourth undiscovered member of Run-DMC. Now she’s adopted the foul mouth of a street hooker.

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Musically, her newest release, “This is Not a Test,” is thunderous and sweaty, like a steamy dance club.

Drum machines echo and reverberate like gong mallets striking empty tin buckets. Bass drums kick and heavy bass lines hum under the fever-pitched production.

Yelps, whistles, moans, snare drums and anything under the sky punctuate Elliot’s lyrics that take profanity to new and greater levels.

“Is This Our Last Time” is about as juvenile and graphic as anything scrawled on a 7-Eleven bathroom stall.

“I remember when we first made love/ It was so good/ N—-, I was whipped and all into it/ Off that good wood.” Off that good wood? Whoo! The whole album is like this. It’s juvenile to the point of parody, but stupid enough to warrant absurdity.

It’s just like the “comedy” in “Toyz Interlude,” the pleasant little number about Elliot and her favorite sex toy. Perhaps this is some weird feminist empowerment deal and I’m just missing the “joke.” Or maybe this is just a really bizzare ode to Elliot’s beloved dildo. Either way, gross.

So congratulations to Missy Elliot on another stellar venture into what’s already been done by anyone and everyone in the “hip-hop” community — from the half-naked Lil’ Kim to any thug with an underdeveloped vocabulary.

“This is Not a Test” is loud, saucy and profane — everything a club hit should be and more. And it’s the best cliche money can buy.