Rape - Pharoahe Monch

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

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

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

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

Ain’t fucking it right, ain’t fucking it right

They ain’t fucking it like me

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

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