Drake Hints He May Stop Performing Rihanna’s Take Care
By Malik Carter, PowerVault Staff Drake may stop performing “Take Care,” his Rihanna collaboration, according to a new report, but no permanent retirement has been confirmed. That distinction matters before a possible...
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By Malik Carter, PowerVault Staff
Drake may stop performing “Take Care,” his Rihanna collaboration, according to a new report, but no permanent retirement has been confirmed. That distinction matters before a possible setlist change becomes another referendum on their relationship. The record carries enough history to send fans straight into detective mode. And with a collaboration this recognizable, even a brief singalong can become a headline before anybody checks what actually followed it. Still, there is a difference between an artist making a suggestive remark and announcing that a beloved song is finished. Right now, the story sits in that gap, where a little information can generate a whole lot of certainty nobody has earned.
Houston Williams, writing for AllHipHop on November 10, reports that Drake briefly sang along to “Take Care” before suggesting audiences might not hear him perform it again. The account does not supply a verbatim quote establishing his exact wording or a reason for the remark. Williams interprets the moment as a possible subliminal aimed at A$AP Rocky, Rihanna’s partner. That is the writer’s interpretation, not an established motive. Nothing presented connects Rocky directly to Drake’s decision. Calling something a subliminal still requires explaining the connection, not just naming the man currently in the picture and letting readers supply the drama. A performance remark can be news without every theory attached to it becoming part of the factual record.
“Take Care” arrived on Drake’s 2011 album of the same name and reached No. 7 on the Billboard Hot 100. Its appeal was bigger than celebrity chemistry. The production draws on Jamie xx’s reworking of Gil Scott Heron’s “I’ll Take Care of You,” connecting Drake and Rihanna’s radio era to an older musical conversation. Her vocal gives the record its reassurance. His verses supply the suspicion and hesitation. Neither performance works quite the same without the other: the promise of care needs somebody wary enough to make accepting it feel consequential. That tension made the collaboration feel lived in, even for listeners who knew nothing about either artist’s private life. Retiring it would remove a distinctive emotional register from his live repertoire.
Their musical partnership also stretches well beyond this song. Rihanna’s “What’s My Name?” featuring Drake reached No. 1 in 2010. “Work,” another Rihanna single featuring Drake, spent nine weeks atop the Hot 100 in 2016. Those records did different jobs. One flirted, another settled into dancehall rhythm, and “Take Care” made guarded affection sound enormous. That range is the story, too: they could change the mood without losing the musical connection that made audiences lean in. Reducing that run to dating speculation misses how effectively these two artists worked together. Rihanna was not background scenery in Drake’s rise. She brought her own audience, vocal identity and star power to collaborations that remain central to both catalogs. Give the woman her musical credit.
The romantic history is public, but it does not explain every musical choice. Drake celebrated Rihanna while presenting her with the Video Vanguard Award at the 2016 MTV Video Music Awards. Two years later, she told Vogue that they no longer had a friendship, while making clear they were not enemies. That interview matters because Rihanna supplied her own account rather than leaving the relationship entirely to public interpretation. Her words deserve more weight than fans endlessly replaying an awards stage for clues about where things stand today. Neither event establishes why Drake might stop performing “Take Care” now. A decade has passed since that awards appearance. Treating it as a permanent decoder ring for his behavior asks old footage to do entirely too much work.
Popular music has always invited audiences to hear private relationships inside public records. Fleetwood Mac’s 1977 album “Rumours” turned fractured relationships into enduring songs. Beyoncé’s “Lemonade” and Jay Z’s “4:44,” released in 2016 and 2017, prompted intense discussion about marriage, accountability and artistic disclosure. The crucial difference is what artists actually put on the record. Listeners can analyze lyrics, interviews and documented statements. They cannot assume every setlist omission amounts to a confession. A song can tell an emotional truth without serving as a current relationship update, and a performance choice can carry meaning without revealing exactly whose feelings shaped it. Drake and Rihanna’s shared catalog belongs to that long history of intimate music becoming public property. Social platforms simply accelerate the process, stripping away context until a passing remark starts looking like a formal declaration. A caption is not confirmation, however confidently it travels.
A woman’s present should not become collateral every time a man revisits their musical past.
Rihanna does not owe anybody a response because an old collaborator gets reflective.
Rihanna does not owe anybody a response because an old collaborator gets reflective. That should be the starting point, not a position fans reach after demanding explanations. Drake can decide which songs he wants to perform. Personal discomfort, creative fatigue and simple preference are all legitimate possibilities, though none is established here. What deserves resistance is the assumption that his choice must reveal something about her current relationship. Silence from her would not validate that theory, either. Not joining a conversation is not the same as secretly confirming its premise. She has a career and a life that do not require constant translation through his feelings. Respecting their history means allowing both people to exist beyond it. Black love deserves celebration without being treated like an ongoing competition between famous men.
The business angle requires discipline, too. Ambiguity can generate attention without an artist issuing a press release or announcing a project. Coverage spreads, fan accounts revive old clips, and the catalog gets another round of conversation. That is a recognizable publicity effect, but an effect is not proof of a strategy. There is no basis here to claim a coordinated rollout, a publicist’s instruction or a promotional deal. A useful test is whether reporting identifies an actual promotional connection or merely notices that attention could be valuable. Those are different findings. PVN’s look at Nick Cannon revisiting his Eminem feud offers a related question: who benefits when an old conflict gets fresh attention? Entertainment reporting should ask who profits without pretending every emotional moment came from a marketing meeting.
Fans have a different responsibility: stop confusing attachment to a song with ownership of the people who made it. Plenty of listeners attach “Take Care” to a first relationship, a school dance or a late drive home. Those memories remain valid even if Drake never performs it again. Nobody needs a renewed romance, a fresh feud or an explanation from Rihanna to keep enjoying the record. There is also a real creative question here: what happens to a concert’s emotional arc when a familiar duet leaves the room? PVN’s coverage of Common’s orchestra show in Miami points toward another worthwhile conversation about live music: how artists present their work. That question gives audiences more to discuss than guessing which former partner a singer wants to make uncomfortable.
Black women especially know how quickly professional contributions get swallowed by relationship coverage. A woman helps make the hit, then spends years being discussed as somebody’s unresolved feelings. Rihanna’s presence on “Take Care” is skilled musical work, not merely evidence in a celebrity love story. The same industry that sells chemistry can flatten a woman into a muse while treating the man as the complicated creative force. That imbalance deserves scrutiny here. Notice whose artistic choices get analyzed and whose personal life gets interrogated. Equal billing in a song should carry into the conversation around it. Money adds another layer: catalogs keep earning attention long after relationships change. Editorial choices determine whether that attention recognizes Rihanna’s contribution or turns her private life into free promotional material for someone else’s moment. PVN chooses the credit.
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The next useful development would be a clear statement from Drake or fuller performance footage that establishes what he said and how he said it. Future setlists could show whether “Take Care” actually disappears, though one omission would not prove permanent retirement. Until then, fans can hold two thoughts: the remark is worth covering, and its meaning remains unconfirmed. Rihanna’s contribution needs no romantic sequel to stay valuable. Neither does the song need fresh tension to justify another listen. Let the next receipt determine the next headline. A classic can survive a changed setlist without a Black woman’s present becoming the price of admission.
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