Just in case everyone wasn’t totally sick to death of “twerking” in all shape and form, Rihanna decided to make it the focal point of her new music video for “Pour It Up.” It’s 3 minutes of strippers, stagnant disease infested water, air humping, and more. Rihanna seems to be declaring herself the ratchet queen.
And somehow, it still manages to be less weird to watch than Miley Cyrus mouth fucking a sledgehammer.
Now, anyone who actually listened to the lyrics of this song at all should not be completely taken by surprise by the plethora of thong wearing broads gyrating on poles in the video. Nor should anyone be surprised that Rihanna is right there with them, rubbing her crotch and actually just as lady like as the rest of them. Rihanna’s mission as of late has been to prove she is just as much of a down ass chick as ever. She ain’t too bougie for some titties in the face!
Besides for the class that this video exudes, it also screams “low budget.” It appears as if they found the first sewer they could break into, filled it with the day time workers (who you know are the ones with the stretch marks and gunshot wounds) and Goodwill furniture. Shit, Rihanna throws some dollar bills into the air, and it’s like they aren’t even trying to pretend it’s real money. The only thing faker than those Benjamins would be Monopoly money.
Perhaps they were trying to save a few bucks to cover the medical expenses that are sure to have followed filming this shit. There is no way all those crusty crotches were slapping the water with their roast beef tips and someone didn’t walk out with at least pink eye, if not herpes. Saving money would also explain the Party City Marilyn wig gracing RiRi’s head.
It is really amusing to see Rihanna trying to “keep it real” by surrounding herself with strippers and acting like she’s one of them. Newsflash Rihanna, you’re not on their level. You play stripper, you take off your top to be scandalous and get attention. At the end of the day, you could never show your nips again and be a-ok in your mansions, smoking that good shit all day long. I bet these chicks really feel united with you as they take the bus home to their basement apartment and you get chauffeured past in your limo.
Maybe you and Miley can swap twerking tips and strip club stories at your next fancy shmancy award show?