Released: October 19, 1999
Songwriter: Pharoahe Monch
Producer: Pharoahe Monch
[Woman screaming]
[Verse 1]
I'm obsessed with multiple nude photographs
Of the beat in my room on the wall
Pondering the verses, fondling my balls
Witness a nigga who will take rap and chase it
Through unoccupied dimly lit staircases and rape it
Grab the drums by the waistline
I snatch the kick, kick the snares and sodomize the bassline
Never waste time, I give the verse rabies
Cum on the chorus, tell the hook to swallow my babies
Maybe I might switch, let the witch live
The original plan was to kill the bitch on the bridge
Ditch the body parts off somewhere near the crescendo
When my innuendos elapse, my mental window attacks
The instrumental elapses
Perhaps that's the only reason that I spared her life
You could solo my fucking vocals and I still get trife
Slice the rhythm, disfigure the face of the groove
For any fader that flies or knobs or button that moves
[Pre-Chorus]
Consider this, the loops are similar to clitorises exposed
On your miss is a hole, a vicious cycle of sin
That doesn't end 'til I stop fuckin'
A million emcees and they ain't saying nothing
[Chorus]
Ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it like me
[Verse 2]
She had the nerve to take the case to court
Knowing I rape for sport
Took the stand crying, denying her whole involvement, lying
Why would an ex-cop lie in a sex shop fly?
Linen down grinning with my coat over my shoulder sitting
Browsing pornography (uh!)
The stenographer smiling the whole time
While jotting verbal photography
Her eyes mahogany, I flashed to a photo
In my mind of a body bludgeoned with slashed arteries
Pardon me, back to the case, slap in the face
Examining the jury similar to cracking a safe
What happens to bass? It was an instinct
I would inhale eighths
Sniff that, sat her ass all over my face to taste it
To hell with 1980 remixes, fuck disco
Turned on the 3000, stuck my dick where the disc go
Yokonaz, ripped the sexy MPC 60
Buying a ticket to hell, verbally dicking the 12 down
Sound shitty, I knew she used to be gritty
Too many impotent emcees in this God-forsaken city
[Chorus]
Ain't fucking it right, ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it like me
[Pre-Chorus]
Consider this, loops are similar to clitorises exposed
On your miss is a hole, a vicious cycle of sin
That doesn't end 'til I stop fuckin'
A million emcees and they ain't saying nothing
[Chorus]
Ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it like me
[Verse 1]
I'm obsessed with multiple nude photographs
Of the beat in my room on the wall
Pondering the verses, fondling my balls
Witness a nigga who will take rap and chase it
Through unoccupied dimly lit staircases and rape it
Grab the drums by the waistline
I snatch the kick, kick the snares and sodomize the bassline
Never waste time, I give the verse rabies
Cum on the chorus, tell the hook to swallow my babies
Maybe I might switch, let the witch live
The original plan was to kill the bitch on the bridge
Ditch the body parts off somewhere near the crescendo
When my innuendos elapse, my mental window attacks
The instrumental elapses
Perhaps that's the only reason that I spared her life
You could solo my fucking vocals and I still get trife
Slice the rhythm, disfigure the face of the groove
For any fader that flies or knobs or button that moves
[Pre-Chorus]
Consider this, the loops are similar to clitorises exposed
On your miss is a hole, a vicious cycle of sin
That doesn't end 'til I stop fuckin'
A million emcees and they ain't saying nothing
[Chorus]
Ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it like me
[Verse 2]
She had the nerve to take the case to court
Knowing I rape for sport
Took the stand crying, denying her whole involvement, lying
Why would an ex-cop lie in a sex shop fly?
Linen down grinning with my coat over my shoulder sitting
Browsing pornography (uh!)
The stenographer smiling the whole time
While jotting verbal photography
Her eyes mahogany, I flashed to a photo
In my mind of a body bludgeoned with slashed arteries
Pardon me, back to the case, slap in the face
Examining the jury similar to cracking a safe
What happens to bass? It was an instinct
I would inhale eighths
Sniff that, sat her ass all over my face to taste it
To hell with 1980 remixes, fuck disco
Turned on the 3000, stuck my dick where the disc go
Yokonaz, ripped the sexy MPC 60
Buying a ticket to hell, verbally dicking the 12 down
Sound shitty, I knew she used to be gritty
Too many impotent emcees in this God-forsaken city
[Chorus]
Ain't fucking it right, ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it like me
[Pre-Chorus]
Consider this, loops are similar to clitorises exposed
On your miss is a hole, a vicious cycle of sin
That doesn't end 'til I stop fuckin'
A million emcees and they ain't saying nothing
[Chorus]
Ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it right, they ain't fucking it right
They ain't fucking it like me