Rihanna is the most important millennial of our time. The Rihanna Rihport is where we chronicle the magnitude of her lived existence.
RIHANNA, NOVEMBER 1—In an unprecedented move that even seasoned experts neglected to predict, on Wednesday morning a tectonic shift occurred and by that we mean RIHANNA IS STRAIGHT RAPPING, Y’ALL!!
YES! Queen Robyn Rihanna FENTY, keeper of our face and dazzler of our dreams, the one true goddess by which we measure all other goddestry from Barbados to B’Ohio, hopped on a track with ya boy PHARRELL’s SKATE-NERD BAND, “N.E.R.D.,” and let loose on some motherloading BARS. While it was a shock to the world and EVEN the devoted #Navy, it was certainly not a shock to our lord of light, the beauty proprietor and deliverer of the cheekal sheen, the One Tru Trophy Wife RIHANNA FENTY!!!!! SHE RAPPED THAT SHIT like Young Chris and Neef Buck doing a butt-swanging saunter into a Sephora and being like “One Pro Filt’r, Ma’am! Coming right UP!!!” Oui oui, mon BAD BITCH!
Then our object of worship tweeted, like p’shah:
There but for the grace of god came a light raining from the heavens, a golden ripple through the clouds that unfurled unto the earth and bathed its beholden in warmth and gilded glow, and a booming yet benevolent voice said, “THIS HERE AIN’T A SCRIMMAGE. MUTHAFUCKA WE AIN’T FINISHED.” And a flock of doves ascended up to meet the voice in the hazy atmosphere, and all the cloven mammals on earth whinnied and neighed, and every belly was immediately replenished when the voice from above responded, “THE VEYRON GLIDE! TELL THE PAPARAZZI GET THE LENS RIGHT!” And so it was done.