This is a song about "Orange door hinge"

The shit that i spit is more

You showed me to the door

You wondering why she ain't fucking, we winning, nigga you lose

Fuck pro tools, this shit is all-natural like orange juice.

Cry, die, tie, then sigh from relief from bottling up too much grief ever since

With dorhinge (door-hinge), which swings 'n' flings, correlating to the physics of wings,

Keep coming back for more

Saw somethin happenn next door

You see i gotta go to war

You showed me to the door

I can't see your album coming, that shit's like a sucker punch

Like soldiers charging up the hills, and dropping agent orange,

Play a song, invade a thong, my dick is havin' guts for lunch

'round the clock, till i make my own clockwork of orange,

// [when you walked through the door]

You ain't gotta hit the club no more