Rihanna Quotes

Kyle want to be a rockstar. I think hes working the one-name thing. Like Rihanna." "I have no idea what you're talking about.

That ones yours,huh?"he asked,pointing to 3A."How come it just says 'Kyle'?Doesnt he have a last name?" "Kyle wants to be a rock star,"Simon said,heading down the stairs."I think his working the one-name thing.Like Rihanna.

Never a failure,always a lesson

People gonna talk whether you doing bad or good

How comes when a man likes an attractive female, is he helping to exploit women around the world, yet the moment he doesn't fancy the female in question, he only hates on her because she's empowering women? Seriously, I don't get it - Rihanna and Nicki do exactly the same thing as far as I can see. They both sing, dance and gyrate their sexy stuff on stage, yet one empowers women, the other is being exploited, depending on which one I fancy the most at the point of being asked the sodding question. How the fuck does any of this make sense?

Eff love. Come out of the situation and look at it third person.

find light in the beautiful sea. I choose to be happy.

Miley Cyrus made some chinky eyes Standing behind an Asian guy I don’t know if this should fly As if there wasn’t enough to despise I wasn’t necessarily a fan of Her, her dad, or Hannah Montana I tend to prefer the songs of Rihanna Racism against Asians is simply bananas! Oh Miley! Chinky eyes make you look wily prejudice isn’t thought of so highly it doesn’t make us all smiley Why is there nothing that Asians can do? To make fun of other races as easily as you Why isn’t racism against Asians taboo? Why are we always so racially screwed! All you have to do is pull at your face To make your eyelids resemble our race This kind of joke has no proper place Miley Cyrus is a disgrace!

I threw my hands in the air and said show me something. He said, "if you dare come a little closer".

i'm no good-girl-gone bad or goin O-na-na like Rihanna, but I'm gonna Work It like Iggy and Ride Like Lana.

DJing for people is fun until someone comes up with a phone screen that has 'PLAY SOME RIHANNA' written on it. I prefer to play older songs because they're the ones I personally enjoy dancing and singing along to and modern dance music bores my brains out.

It’s like you’re screaming but no one can hear. You almost feel ashamed that someone could be that important, that without them, you feel like nothing. No one will ever understand how much it hurts. You feel hopeless, like nothing can save you. And when it’s over and it’s gone, you almost wish that you could have all that bad stuff back so you can have the good.

rihanna is my president, walking out of global summits with wineglass in hand, our taxes returned in gold to dust our faces into coins

Jealousy Is An Emotion I’ve Never Felt.Envy Maybe.Like I’d Be Envious Of Say, Rihanna Who Is So Young, So Cool, She’s Done Amazing Work.But I’ve Never Felt The Need To Be Jealous.Maybe, Because I’ve Been Lucky Enough To Have Contentment In What I Do.

I am happy and I'm Single

is Whitney? Is that your dealer?” “Whitney Houston,” Mom said. “You know, dear. She was that singer who sang that song you like that Helena performed.” “‘Hit Me Baby, One More Time?” “That’s Britney, dear.” “‘Dirty?” “That was Christina.” “Umbrella?” “And that was Rihanna. Larry, you’re embarrassing yourself. You have a gay son, for God’s sake. How can you not know your divas?” Mom sounded affronted. “Paul? Paul! If you can hear me, don’t listen to your father! He obviously doesn’t know his ass from his elbow!” “Language,” Dad scolded. “And I know my divas. I know them very well. What about that Woman Goo-Goo that Helena performs like?

Christopher turned the volume up on the MP3 player strapped to his arm and ran to the beat of his Spotify playlist. Adele was the next artist to shuffle on and he wondered why all killers depicted in television dramas only ever listened to angry, shouty, heavy metal music—in the same way that all fictitious black criminals only ever listened to rap. Nobody ever killed or robbed a bank to the sounds of Rihanna or Justin Bieber.

The Fifth Key Lizbet Keaton’s Breakup Playlist “Good 4 U”—Olivia Rodrigo “All Too Well” (Taylor’s version)—Taylor Swift “If Looks Could Kill”—Heart “You Oughta Know”—Alanis Morissette “Far Behind”—Social Distortion “Somebody That I Used to Know”—Gotye “Marvin’s Room”—Drake “Another You”—Elle King “Gives You Hell”— The All-American Rejects “Kiss This”—The Struts “Save It for a Rainy Day”—Kenny Chesney “I Don’t Wanna Be in Love”—Good Charlotte “Best of You”—Foo Fighters “Rehab”—Rihanna “Better Now”—Post Malone “Forget You”—CeeLo Green “Salt”—Ava Max “Go Your Own Way”—Fleetwood Mac “Since U Been Gone”—Kelly Clarkson “Praying”—Kesha

-Mi papá te hubiera puesto a hacer cien lagartijas por todo este gimoteo. -No si antes me rompiera mis malditas costillas, amiga. Me siento como Rihanna tras una noche de pasión.

The music has turned into a distant hysterical pounding and shrieking, like someone has a tiny Rihanna locked in a box.

he wondered why all killers depicted in television dramas only ever listened to angry, shouty, heavy metal music—in the same way that all fictitious black criminals only ever listened to rap. Nobody ever killed or robbed a bank to the sounds of Rihanna or Justin Bieber.

Scegliamo Umbrella di Rihanna, che sicuramente non parla di topi, e a metà canzone io trovo il coraggio di dividere il microfono con Arthur; le nostre voci non si fondono mai del tutto, ma mi piace come suonano insieme. Come due persone che cercano di far funzionare le cose

El espíritu de superación, qué sibilinas que son las palabras, es el espíritu de normalización. Deja de ser quien eres para convertirte en un mediocre más. El espíritu de superación es, pues el espíritu de la mediocridad. ¿Y qué es un mediocre? Mediocre no es un corredor que queda el vigesimoctavo en la clasificación, no. Ese puede ser, simplemente, un mal corredor. Mediocre es el ganador de la carrera que en el podio agradece su victoria al banco o a la petrolera que lo patrocina. Mediocre es lo inofensivo. Mediocre es la superestrella del pop Rihanna siendo reiteradamente maltratada por su novio. Brillante es el ama de casa sirviendo la tortilla de patatas y después pegándole un sartenazo en la cabeza a su marido. Mediocre es el no politizado, mediocre es el integrado y por tanto mediocre es la danza integrada.

RIH, we love you, Rih we are proud of you- Many go away and forget their roots- But you are not one of them at all-Every Crop over, you return to the island to fete-And meet up with fans you haven't already met. You travel the world-representing your country-Putting 246 down in World History...

There's no other feeling in this world like sitting in the attic and reminiscing on a cold rainy day, whilst listening to my favorite music- Next on Playlist- Michael Jackson The Jacksons 5 Beatles Stevie Wonder The Mighty Gabby Bob Marley Bohemian Rhapsody Prince Whitney Houston Lionel Richie Rihanna

That’s really sweet,” she said, with a smile. I frowned at her offensive words. “I’m not sweet,” I whispered sternly. Rihanna’s smile broadened, and her obsidian eyes sparkled. She leaned forward to whisper to me. “Yes, I think you’re very sweet, on top of being fluffy, and having the cutest ears.” I glared at her, annoyed beyond words.

Never a failure always a lesson

I'm addicted to the throne It's a dangerous love affair Can't be scared when it goes down Got a problem, tell me now Only thing that's on my mind Who gon run this town tonight.

So the conversation changes, because it’s not just that you can’t go on a run or climb a mountain or take that Rihanna dance class you’ve always wanted to take. It’s that you can’t do your laundry, or reach for items in the cupboard, or grab a book from the bottom shelf. Suddenly, you can’t live a regular life, and you have to admit that your injury is serious. That your pain is real. That you need to do something in order to heal.

I Won’t Write Your Obituary You asked if you could call to say goodbye if you were ever really gonna kill yourself. Sure, but I won’t write your obituary. I’ll commission it from some dead-end journalist who will say things like: “At peace… Better place… Fought the good fight…” Maybe reference the loving embrace of Capital-G-God at least 4 times. Maybe quote Charles fucking Bukowski. And I won’t stop them because I won’t write your obituary. But if you call me, I will write you a new sky, one you can taste. I will write you a D-I-Y cloud maker so on days when you can’t do anything you can still make clouds in whatever shape you want them. I will write you letters, messages in bottles, in cages, in orange peels, in the distance between here and the moon, in forests and rivers and bird songs. I will write you songs. I can’t write music, but I’ll find Rihanna, and I’ll get her to write you music if it will make you want to dance a little longer. I will write you a body whose veins are electricity because outlets are easier to find than good shrinks, but we will find you a good shrink. I will write you 1-800-273-8255, that’s the suicide hotline; we can call it together. And yeah, you can call me, but I won’t tell you it’s okay, that I forgive you. I won’t say “goodbye” or “I love you” one last time. You won’t leave on good terms with me, Because I will not forgive you. I won’t read you your last rights, absolve you of sin, watch you sail away on a flaming viking ship, my hand glued to my forehead. I will not hold your hand steady around a gun. And after, I won’t come by to pick up the package of body parts you will have left specifically for me. I’ll get a call like “Ma’am, what would you have us do with them?” And I’ll say, “Burn them. Feed them to stray cats. Throw them at school children. Hurl them at the sea. I don’t care. I don’t want them.” I don’t want your heart. It’s not yours anymore, it’s just a heart now and I already have one. I don’t want your lungs, just deflated birthday party balloons that can’t breathe anymore. I don’t want a jar of your teeth as a memento. I don’t want your ripped off skin, a blanket to wrap myself in when I need to feel like your still here. You won’t be there. There’s no blood there, there’s no life there, there’s no you there. I want you. And I will write you so many fucking dead friend poems, that people will confuse my tongue with your tombstone and try to plant daisies in my throat before I ever write you an obituary while you’re still fucking here. So the answer to your question is “yes”. If you’re ever really gonna kill yourself, yes, please, call me.

Beyoncé and Rihanna were pop stars. Pop stars were musical performers whose celebrity had exploded to the point where they could be identified by single words. You could say BEYONCÉ or RIHANNA to almost anyone anywhere in the industrialized world and it would conjure a vague neurological image of either Beyoncé or Rihanna. Their songs were about the same six subjects of all songs by all pop stars: love, celebrity, fucking, heartbreak, money and buying ugly shit. It was the Twenty-First Century. It was the Internet. Fame was everything. Traditional money had been debased by mass production. Traditional money had ceased to be about an exchange of humiliation for food and shelter. Traditional money had become the equivalent of a fantasy world in which different hunks of vampiric plastic made emphatic arguments about why they should cross the threshold of your home. There was nothing left to buy. Fame was everything because traditional money had failed. Fame was everything because fame was the world’s last valid currency. Beyoncé and Rihanna were part of a popular entertainment industry which deluged people with images of grotesque success. The unspoken ideology of popular entertainment was that its customers could end up as famous as the performers. They only needed to try hard enough and believe in their dreams. Like all pop stars, Beyoncé and Rihanna existed off the illusion that their fame was a shared experience with their fans. Their fans weren’t consumers. Their fans were fellow travelers on a journey through life. In 2013, this connection between the famous and their fans was fostered on Twitter. Beyoncé and Rihanna were tweeting. Their millions of fans were tweeting back. They too could achieve their dreams. Of course, neither Beyoncé nor Rihanna used Twitter. They had assistants and handlers who packaged their tweets for maximum profit and exposure. Fame could purchase the illusion of being an Internet user without the purchaser ever touching a mobile phone or a computer. That was a difference between the rich and the poor. The poor were doomed to the Internet, which was a wonderful resource for watching shitty television, experiencing angst about other people’s salaries, and casting doubt on key tenets of Mormonism and Scientology. If Beyoncé or Rihanna were asked about how to be like them and gave an honest answer, it would have sounded like this: “You can’t. You won’t. You are nothing like me. I am a powerful mixture of untamed ambition, early childhood trauma and genetic mystery. I am a portal in the vacuum of space. The formula for my creation is impossible to replicate. The One True God made me and will never make the like again. You are nothing like me.

consider women in music who align themselves with charities and causes that don’t reflect their lived experience in order to seem like they’re doing great things for poor, suffering women—the Other. Look at female artists who use background dancers of other races as props, or appropriate other cultures. Look at women in music who publicly shame other women for exercising bodily autonomy, like Warpaint making offensive comments about Beyoncé and Rihanna’s wardrobe choices.

you really have love at home then why are you in a place where the music is too loud and men can’t see you beyond an erection? If you are truly fulfilled then why are you half drunk and ready to let a random man stick his cock in you? If there is truly happiness in the club then why isn’t there happiness in the music or the people and why is shit always popping off? The club is the loneliest place on Earth and I’ve only pretended to be a fan

Toward the end of the shift, when the orders from the waitresses had slowed to a trickle and the cleaning up of the kitchen had begun, J.T. picked a CD and slipped it into the CD player the cooks kept on top of a reach-in refrigerator. He cranked the volume to seven and hit Play. Offspring doing "Bad Habit." It was one of the kitchen staff standards. They favored seriously hard-edged rock at the end of a tough night. The worse the night, the wilder the music. Skeet, one of the other cooks, heard the opening bars and gave J.T. a wink. "It wasn't that bad of a night," she said. "Oh, Skeet, you think every night is a Melissa Etheridge night," J.T. teased. He waltzed over, took Skeet by the waist, and drew her into a completely incongruous dance, as if they were keeping time to a different piece of music. "First time you've danced with a guy, Skeet?" "No, only I prefer guys with some idea of rhythm," Skeet said. J.T. released her, laughing. "Come on, Tom," he said, inviting the fry cook to dance. "Let's go." "Yeah, when pigs fly," Tom said. "No one wants to dance," J.T. complained. Then he spotted Lianne coming through the swinging doors. "Lianne! Dance with me." He snapped his fingers. "I got dancin' feet." "Dance to this?" Lianne said, turning up her nose. "Skeet! Stick in Rihanna," J.T. ordered. Seconds later Rihanna came on. But still Lianne refused. "J.T., you're at work," she said. She gave him a peck on the cheek and went back to the dining room just as Marquez passed through the door. J.T. retreated a bit, stepping back behind the line and pretending to go back to work. Marquez started to do side work, dipping tartar sauce into little plastic cups, but J.T. knew her too well to think she could ignore the music. Within seconds he could see the effect-- a motion beginning with her head, swaying just slightly at first, translated down her neck to her shoulders, her bottom, her legs, topped off by a little twirl with the tartar sauce spoon still in her hand. J.T. smiled ruefully. The future Harvard girl. The future corporate lawyer. There wasn't anything wrong in dancing with his former girlfriend, was there? After all, a moment earlier he'd been dancing with Skeet. He'd even asked Tom, although the fry cook was unlikely to be seen as a threat by Lianne. No, he should stick to his work. Marquez was now dancing far more than she was filling cups of tartar sauce. J.T. whipped off his apron. Screw it. He had dancin' feet. What was he supposed to do? He took the spoon from Marquez and set it down. "Crank it, Skeet," he said. By the time Lianne reappeared in the kitchen, Marquez was up on the stainless steel counter, hands in the air over her head, hips thrusting, hair loose and flying, doing death-defying moves. J.T. was dancing more sedately below her, choosing to keep his feet on the ground. "Is this really--" Lianne began, but the music drowned her out. She caught J.T.'s eye. He gave her a wan grin and tried to draw her into the moment. But Lianne just looked angry and hurt.

Bajan Pride Barbadians should be proud of Rih, Thanks to Evan Rogers and Jay-Z, At only twenty eight, Rih's at the top of her game, And it's seems like Robyn Rihanna, Is still the same, Same friends, Same personality, Never adding flavor to her accent Some say Rih has never changed, Even with all her diamonds and pearls Rihanna is still a St. Michael Girl.

You don't have to have to be rich like Oprah Winfrey or Rihanna to make a difference in somebody's life- To some people ten dollars feels like ten million dollars

join the rest of the party.” They walked to the backyard where couples danced cheek-to-cheek, and small groups huddled in conversation. The largest crowds gathered around the dance floor as the singer announced that it was time change things up, and began to belt out the lyrics to a Rihanna song, backed up by the band.

She's the wealthiest female musician in the world and yet her wealth hasn't changed her

⚫All women are beautiful ⚫ Rihanna is a woman ⚫Therefore, Rihanna is beautiful

When I want my skin to feel like silk, I grab my Fenty Skin Start'rs kit

Rihanna taught me how to 3-step, and now my skin is dancing too

The most interesting thing I learned from this trip came when I told the story to my friend James, who had been a performer on a cruise ship years before. When I told him the woman said, “Bravo, bravo, bravo,” James froze. Did she really say it three times? he needed to know. Then James laid it out for me. Bravo is serious. The more times they say it, the more serious it is. The most times they ever say it is four times, and if they say it four times, it means you’re going down to your watery grave. So “Bravo, bravo, bravo” was not terrific. Interesting fact number two: In the event of an emergency, it is the entertainers who are in charge of the lifeboats. Because the rest of the crew has actual nautical duties, the kids from Fiesta Caliente are trained to man the lifeboats. If you ever have to get on a lifeboat, the person in charge of your safety will likely be a nineteen-year-old dancer from Tampa who just had a fight with his boyfriend about the new Rihanna video. James also told me that each lifeboat has a gun on it and that once a lifeboat is in the water, the performer–lifeboat captain is trained to shoot anyone who is disruptive. This is apparently legal in accordance with maritime law.

If someone asks you a question that’s too personal, say, “Once, in college.” Try to live a life worth impersonating by a drag queen. Name your Starbucks self Rihanna. Flash yourself in your mirror. Take as many bikini pool shots as you possibly can because Sarong City is closer than you think.

We can only fix this world together, we can’t do it divided RIHANNA

There's something so special about a woman who dominates in a man's world. It takes a certain grace, strength, intelligence, fearlessness, and the nerve to never take no for an answer.

Rihanna was an army cadet that trained with the Barbadian military. Fellow singer Shontelle was her drill sergeant.

Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey A Little Party Never Killed Nobody- Fergie Gangsta- Kehlani You Don’t Own Me- Grace Bonnie and Clyde- Kellie Pickler Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore I Feel a Sin Comin’ On- Pistol Annies Raise Hell- Dorothy Renegade Runaway- Carrie Underwood Black Widow- Iggy Azalea Hard Out Here- Lily Allen Fix- Chris Lane Make Me Wanna Die- Pretty Reckless Natalie- Bruno Mars Grenade- Bruno Mars Criminal- Fiona Apple Hunter- Ella Fence Gunpowder & Lead- Miranda Lambert Addicted to Love- Florence & The Machine Titanium- David Guetta & Sia Talking Body- Tove Lo Tornado- Little Big Town Fastest Girl in Town- Miranda Lambert Just Tonight- The Pretty Reckless Ready Set Roll- Chase Rice Till I Collapse- Eminem Remember the Name- Fort Minor Kill!Kill!Kill!- The Pierces Hard- Rihanna Cherry Bomb- The Runaways Bad Romance- Lady Gaga Gasoline & Matches- Julie Roberts Loca- Shakira My Medicine- The Pretty Reckless Fake It- Seether Psycho- Puddle of Mud All or Nothing- Theory of a Deadman Next to You- Buckcherry Better Dig Two- The Band Perry

After dancing to "Rihanna - We Found Love ft. Calvin Harris", I earned 300 Fit Bit points, I danced for 4.30 mins.

They . . . had been slugging it out like Rihanna and Chris Brown on repeat . . .

She continues to inspire the world, Just being her authentic self

Tuesday, November 30th 2021 This day will go down in history

Singer Rihanna nearly went bankrupt after overspending and sued her financial advisor. The advisor responded: “Was it really necessary to tell her that if you spend money on things, you will end up with the things and not the money?”30

It’s nice to look back on your life and see things as lessons, and not regrets.” ​— ​Rihanna

Just when I felt like giving up on us, you turned around and gave me one last touch.

Seven Devils” by Florence + The Machine “Paint it, Black” by Ciara “Monsters” by Ruelle “One Way or Another” by Until The Ribbon Breaks “Paranoid” by Post Malone “Royals” by Lorde “So Thick” by Whipped Cream featuring Baby Goth “Sweet But Psycho” by Parker Jenkins “My Blood” by Twenty One Pilots “Candy” by Guccihighwaters “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna “Horns” by Bryce Fox “No One” by Mothica “All The Time” by Jeremih, Lil Wayne and Natasha Mosley “I Wanna Be Yours” by Arctic Monkeys “Monster” by Meg Myers “Soldier” by Fleurie “Fuck It I Love You” by Lana Del Rey “Kill Our Way to Heaven” by Michl “Sweet Dreams” by Emily Browning “Everybody Wants to Rule The World” by Lorde

Kinky is a Barber, for the decent family and universities of Rihanna and Shakira.

In addition to contesting social norms of femininity, the use of bad language may also function to construct and enact new modes and versions of being a woman . . . Women were imitating other women whom they admired. Women who challenge the stereotypical image of a well-mannered lady, like Trina and Rihanna, and the bad-ass women in their communities. Swearing works as a way for women to figure out what kind of women they are, to define their femininity on their own terms.

None of my tattoos belong to me; other people wore them first. I have Gaga’s Rilke quote on the inside of my arm and Lana del Rey’s paradise on the side of my foot. Rihanna’s stars cascade across my hip; Cara Delevingne’s wasp stings my shoulder. These tattoos belong to people who are free and abundantly themselves. When they walk in, they belong, even though they look like they came from the moon or Mars or the Milky Way. They don’t have scars; they are the scar—the line that separates them from the ordinary is their entire existence. Their tattoos are my icons, little etched Patronus charms that fly across my body. So when I get ink, I get theirs. I reach for what they have; I cling to it in permanent colors.

I always believed that when you follow your heart or your gut, when you really follow the things that feel great to you, you can never lose, because settling is the worst feeling in the world.

IT MAY NOT KILL YOU PHYSICALLY HOWEVER IT CAN STILL KILL YOUR SPIRIT! ~FRIEND IN YOUR POCKET

I used to feel unsafe right in the moment of an accomplishment—I felt the ground fall from under my feet because this could be the end. And even now, while everyone is celebrating, I’m on to the next thing. I don’t want to get lost in this big cushion of success.

I think I’m like most people—we fear the unknown and the things that have yet to come to pass, which are the very things that don’t deserve to be feared. When you give God complete control, it’s very hard not to be fearless.

When I see myself as an old woman, I just think about being happy. And hopefully, I’ll still be fly.

There’s a long way to fall when you pretend that you’re so far away from the earth, far away from reality, floating in a bubble that’s protected by fame or success. It’s scary, and it’s the thing I fear the most: to be swallowed up by that bubble. It can be poison to you, fame.

THE FALL MAY NOT KILL YOU BUT THE BRUISE TO YOUR EGO MAY KILL YOUR SPIRIT. BE CAREFUL OF.... WHO AND WHAT YOU FALL FOR !

Didn't they tell you that I was a savage? Fuck your white horse and a carriage. Bet you never could imagine!

If I ever go to West Africa, it would probably be for a free concert. I would want to do something for the people there. Maybe we can make a whole event, the way Bob Marley would have done it. Just for the people. And if they climb over the gate, let them climb over the gate.

I could never identify with that word, ‘weak'.

A disease of the mind can control you

There's something so special about a woman who dominates in a man's world. It takes a certain grace, strength, intelligence, fearlessness, and the nerve to never take no for an answer.

WITHOUT A WOMB THERE WOULD BE NO YOU! @FRIENDINYOURPOCKET

La cantante Rihanna estuvo a punto de declararse en quiebra tras gastar demasiado y demandó a su asesor financiero. El hombre respondió: «¿De verdad hacía falta explicarle que, si gastas dinero para comprar cosas, al final vas a tener las cosas pero no el dinero?».1 Te estarás riendo; y ríete, adelante. Pero la respuesta es que sí, que sí hace falta contarle eso a la gente. Cuando la mayoría de la gente dice que quiere ser millonaria, lo que quieren decir en realidad es: «Me gustaría gastar un millón de dólares». Y eso es literalmente lo contrario de ser millonario.

I think about the Jay Z and DMX scenario and I think DMX could learn from Jay Z. He could have been the next billionaire like Rihanna … I don’t know, everyone who has been around Jay Z is rich today.

Songs that felt like Wyatt: “Iris” by Goo Goo Dolls “A Murder of One” by Counting Crows “Take It Easy on Me” by Little River Band “Hold You in My Arms” by Ray LaMontagne “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran “Yellow” by Coldplay Songs that took me to the beach: “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles “Sunshine on My Shoulders” by John Denver “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys Songs to make Sam cry: “Who Knew” by Pink “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo “So Far Away” by Carole King “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits “Stay” by Rihanna “Sam, I Am” by Missy McGee

Singer Rihanna nearly went bankrupt after overspending and sued her financial advisor. The advisor responded: “Was it really necessary to tell her that if you spend money on things, you will end up with the things and not the money?

In terms of endurance, I do not hold a distance.

Football suckers around the world are united as pigs, meatballs and sugar suckers.

Next to Beyoncé and Rihanna, he is the greatest joy of my life.

Not all beauty products are the same., Fenty beauty products has changed the game.

What tactics do the highest performers in your space share? This has nothing to do with your worth as a human being. It’s just about learning from people further along the path than you are. Keep your voice. Don’t be the next Rihanna, be the first you. Don’t imitate anyone else’s message or point of view. Just study the mechanisms, the tactics that might make your efforts easier and more effective.

Gerçi şimdi mesele bu değildi. Mesele Cenk’ten kirlettiği namusumun hesabını sormaktı. Man Down klibindeki Rihanna gibi hissediyordum kendimi şerefsizim! Gidip herfiçioğlunun kafasına sıkacak, sonra da polise teslim olacaktım! Tabii benim tabancam yoktu. Zaten bir yerden tabanca bulsam da kullanabileceğimden emin değildim.

The name Rihanna, Would never grow old, Whatever Rih touches Turns to Gold She definitely has "The Midas Touch

Oxford University was pleased by boosting the boobs of Rihanna, the girly without brains; brains in her ass. What an impact. What a great lesson!

Beyoncé and Rihanna do love money, don't they.

That’s how Rihanna started,” Ian said. “I have a hard time picturing Rihanna singing ‘Hava Nagila.

She could hear Sarah’s laugh from the kitchen, even over Coldplay and Rihanna, who were now belting out ‘Princess of China’ from Matthew’s iPod.

And also, here's the other thing about not always being universally loved: NO ONE IS. Not a single soul. Some people hate Beyoncé. Some people hate Harry Styles. Some people hate Rihanna. Those people are idiots, and I hate them, but that's the truth. And if not even the Holy Trinity are universally loved, what hope is there for the rest of us? So you might as well just be and do you. When I find out someone doesn't like me, after writing them off as a balloon animal who isn't worthy of my time, I just think WELL, TOO BAD FOR THEM, I GUESS. And, like Arya Stark (that's her name, right?), add them to the list of people I will mention when I win the first of many awards to remind them: fuck you.

Rihanna! We’ll know when she is properly powerful and successful when we see her in a lovely cardigan.

Three weeks later I was getting an HIV test at a drop-in clinic in Barbados. With Rihanna.

Theme Song: Your Man – Down With Webster Bling Bling – ALTÉGO Let It All Go – Birdy & RHODES I Think You’re the Devil – Ellee Duke Legendary – Welshly Arms Wonderland – Taylor Swift Skin – Rihanna MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT – Elley Duhé Blue – Madison Beer Devil I Know – Allie X MONEY ON THE DASH – Elley Duhé & Whethan Way Down We Go – KALEO How Do I Say Goodbye – Dean Lewis Do Me – Kim Petras Crying On The Dancefloor – Sam Feldt, Jonas Blue, Endless Summer & Violet Days Wicked – GRANT Love and War – Fleurie Silence – Marshmello (feat. Khalid) Fire on Fire – Sam Smith

If Rihanna never records another song, I’m fine as long as Fenty keeps on giving. It’s a fair trade.

Rihanna is a celebrity who really stands to represent Cocoa and Black Women...and all other races and people too. A role model who lives what she says, wears what she sells, and raw about who she is. She's the definition of the word, "authentic"!

Rihanna is a celebrity who really stands to represent Cocoa and Black Women...and all other races and people too. A role model who lives what she says, wears what she sells, and is raw about who she is. She's the definition of the word, "authentic"!

Lead like Beyoncé, hustle like Dwayne Johnson, and slay like Rihanna. You’re the CEO of your life, the rockstar of your own show, and the trendsetter of your destiny. So, put on your crown, channel your inner boss, babe, and strut your stuff like the fierce and fabulous leader you were born to be. Life’s too short for mediocrity, darling. Embrace your power, command your domain, and let your light shine bright like a diamond in a world full of mere pebbles. You’ve got this!

ead like Beyoncé, hustle like Dwayne Johnson, and slay like Rihanna. You’re the CEO of your life, the rockstar of your own show, and the trendsetter of your destiny. So, put on your crown, channel your inner boss babe, and strut your stuff like the fierce and fabulous leader you were born to be. Life’s too short for mediocrity, darling. Embrace your power, command your domain, and let your light shine bright like a diamond in a world full of mere pebbles. You’ve got this!