“Now it's like “Murder, She Wrote” once I get you out them clothes. Privacy is on the door, still they can hear you screaming more. Girl, I'm feeling what you feeling. No more hoping and wishing, I'm about to take my key and stick it in the ignition” – R.Kelly, Ignition (Remix)
Why in the hell is it “Murder She Wrote” when R. Kelly gets this woman out of her clothes? If you’re girlfriend’s naked body is comparable to the saggy and wrinkled Angela Lansbury, you have serious problems, R. Kelly. Especially because you tend to seek out teenagers. Or is it ‘Murder She Wrote” because having sex with you is like watching a mystery show that was so flaccid, millions of elderly people chose to fall asleep to it’s dulcet writing? I hope you’re not saying it’s “Murder, She Wrote” because she’s screaming like she’s being murdered. Because, Robert, I know there’s supposedly a thin line between pleasure and pain, but it’s not really that thin. By the way, comparing your penis to a key is gross. Yeah, it’s stiff and it goes in a hole, but a key is also incredibly crooked and grimy. And, it’s usually in my pants and I instinctively handle it a few times a day. Wow, maybe penises and keys aren’t such bad comparisons after all.