When "Work" first dropped in early 2016, the internet basically had a collective meltdown. Half the people were dancing in their kitchens, and the other half were complaining they couldn't understand a single word Rihanna was saying. You remember the tweets. People called it "gibberish" or "mumble rap," which is honestly pretty wild when you realize she was just speaking her own language.
The Patois "Controversy" That Wasn't
Rihanna isn't mumbling. She’s singing in Bajan Creole and Jamaican Patois.
For a lot of listeners in the US and UK, the lyrics felt like a puzzle. But for anyone from the Caribbean, it was just home. When she sings, "He said me haffi work, work, work," that "haffi" isn't a made-up word—it's "have to."
It’s a specific linguistic choice.
Most pop stars try to sand down their edges to fit a global mold. Rihanna did the opposite. She went back to her roots in Barbados and leaned into the West Indian identity that the industry usually tries to polish away. The song wasn't just a club banger; it was a flag planted in the sand.
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Why the repetition actually matters
The hook repeats the word "work" about 70-80 times depending on how you count the ad-libs. On paper, that sounds lazy. In reality, it mimics the grueling, repetitive nature of a dead-end relationship.
Rihanna Song Lyrics Work: It’s Not About the Office
There is a massive misconception that this song is about career ambition or "grinding." It's not.
If you look at the verses, this is a song about a crumbling relationship and the emotional labor required to keep it afloat. Rihanna plays the role of someone who has been "taken for decoration." She’s exhausted. She’s putting in the "work" to stay with someone who isn't giving her the same energy back.
- The "Dirt" Line: When she sings "He see me do me dirt, dirt, dirt," she isn't talking about gardening. In Patois, "doing dirt" usually refers to being unfaithful or doing something scandalous.
- The Plea: "Baby, don’t you leave / Don’t leave me stuck here in the streets." This isn't about physical homelessness. It's about that vulnerable, exposed feeling you get when a partner checked out months ago and you're the only one still trying.
Honestly, it’s one of the saddest songs she’s ever released, but the beat is so infectious that we all forgot to be depressed.
The Drake Factor: Why He Was Necessary
Drake’s verse is the perfect foil. While Rihanna is singing about being "neglected," Drake comes in with the classic "I’m too busy being famous" excuse.
He’s smooth, sure. "If you had a twin, I would still choose you." It’s a great line. But he’s also admitting he’s "way less friendly" because people are "trying to end" him. He’s justifying his distance while she’s asking for intimacy. It’s a masterclass in two people talking past each other.
The chemistry between them in the music video—specifically the first version directed by Director X at the Real Jerk in Toronto—felt so authentic because it captured that "work" of attraction.
The Production Secret: It Started at a Pool Party
You might think a song this big was engineered in a sterile lab by 50 executives.
Nope.
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It started at a pool party at Drake's house. Producers Boi-1da and Sevn Thomas were hanging out, and they started messing with a dancehall-inspired rhythm. They actually interpolated a 1985 track called "If You Were Here Tonight" by Alexander O'Neal.
That’s why the song feels so "hazy." It’s got that mid-summer, humid atmosphere because it was literally born in that environment. PARTYNEXTDOOR wrote the initial lyrics, and because he’s also of Jamaican descent, the Patois was baked into the DNA of the track from second one.
A few facts people usually miss:
- The Tempo: The song sits at 92 beats per minute. That’s significantly slower than your average high-energy pop hit, which is why it feels like it "drags" in a sexy, hypnotic way.
- The Double Video: Rihanna released two music videos back-to-back in one file. One is a gritty, authentic Caribbean dancehall party; the other is a pink-lit, intimate session with just her and Drake. It showed the two sides of "work"—the public performance and the private struggle.
- The Charts: It spent nine weeks at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Nine weeks. For a song people claimed they "couldn't understand," it sure stayed on everyone's speakers for a long time.
Why We Still Talk About It
In 2026, looking back at the Anti era, "Work" stands out as the moment Rihanna stopped trying to please the "Umbrella" fans and started making music for herself.
It was unapologetic.
If you didn't get the lyrics, that was your problem, not hers. She wasn't going to provide a translator. By using her natural dialect, she forced the world to meet her where she was.
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That’s the real "work" she was doing.
How to actually appreciate the lyrics next time you listen:
- Listen for the "Ah Go": In the line "When you ah go learn," notice how she stretches the syllables. It’s a future tense marker in Bajan. She’s asking when the person will eventually learn.
- Ignore the "Mumble" Myth: Focus on the rhythm of the words rather than trying to find a standard English rhyme scheme. The rhymes are internal and rhythmic.
- Watch the Punctuation: If you read the lyrics as prose, they’re heartbreaking. It’s a story of someone begging for a "foundation" while the other person is just looking for a "decoration."
If you want to dive deeper into how Rihanna changed the pop landscape, you should check out the production credits for the rest of the Anti album. It’s a wild mix of psych-rock covers and soul ballads that proves "Work" wasn't a fluke—it was a manifesto.
Next Steps: Go back and watch the "Work" music video, but this time, pay attention to the body language during Drake's verse. It tells a completely different story than the audio alone.