On Fire

You know, critics, man

Critics never got nothin' nice to say, man

You know, the one thing I notice about critics, man

Is critics never ask me how my day went

Well, I'ma tell 'em

Yesterday my dog died

I hog tied a ho, tied her in a bow

Said: Next time you blog, try to spit a flow

You wanna criticize, dog? Try a little mo'

I'm so tired of this I could blow, fire in the hole

I'm fired up, so fire up the lighter and the dro

Better hold on a little tighter, here I go

Flows tighter, hot-headed as Ghost Rider

Cold-hearted as Spiderman throwing a spider in the snow

So you better get lower than Florida

Inside of a lowrider with no tires, in a hole

Why am I like this? Why is winter cold?

Why is it when I talk I'm so biased to the hoes?

Listen, dog, Christmas is off, this is as soft as it gets

This isn't golf, this is a blistering assault

Those are your wounds, this is the salt, so get lost

Shit, dissin' me is just like pissin' off the Wizard of Oz

Wrap a lizard in gauze

Beat you in the jaws with it, grab the scissors and saws

And cut out your livers, gizzards, and balls

Throw you in the middle of the ocean in a blizzard with Jaws

So sip piss like sizzurp through a straw

Then describe how it tasted like dessert to us all

Got the gall to make Chris piss in his drawers

Tickle him, go to his grave, skip him, and visit his dog

(You're on fire)

That's how you know you're on a roll

'Cause when you're hot its like you're burning up

Everyone else's cold

(You're on fire)

Man, I'm so fuckin' sick

I got ambulances pullin' me over and shit

(You're on fire)

You need to stop, drop, and roll

'Cause when you say the shit to get

The whole Hip Hop shop to blow

(You're on fire, you're on fire)

I just put a bullshit hook in between two long-ass verses

If you mistook this for a song, look, this ain't a song

It's a warning to Brooke Hogan and David Cook

That the crook just took over, so book

Run as fast as you can, stop writing and kill it

I'm lightning in a skillet, you're a fuckin' flash in the pan

I pop up, you bitches scatter like hot grease splashing a fan

Mr. Mathers is the man, yeah, I'm pissed

But I would rather take this energy and stash it in a can

Come back and whip your ass with it again

Saliva's like sulfuric acid in your hand

It'll eat through anything, metal, the ass of Iron Man

Turn him into plastic

So for you to think that you could stand a fuckin' chance is asinine

Yeah, ask Denaun, man

Hit a blind man with a coloring book

And told him color inside the lines or get hit with a flying crayon

Fuck it, I ain't playin', pull up in a van

And hop out on a homeless man holding a sign sayin'

Vietnam vet — I'm out my fuckin' mind, man

Kick over the can, beat his ass, and leave him 9 grand

So if I seem a little mean to you

This ain't savage, you ain't never seen a brute

You wanna get graphic, we can go the scenic route

You couldn't make a bulimic puke

On a piece of fuckin' corn and peanut poop

Sayin' you sick, quit playin', you prick, don't nobody care

And why the fuck am I yellin' at air

I ain't even talkin' to no one, 'cause ain't nobody there

And nobody will fuckin' test me

'Cause these hoes won't even dare

I'm wasting punchlines, but I got so many to spare

I just thought of another one that might go here

Nah, don't waste it, save it, psycho, yeah

Plus you got to rewrite those lines

That you said about Michael's hair (Woops!)

(You're on fire)

That's how you know you're on a roll

'Cause when you're hot its like you're burning up

Everyone else's cold

(You're on fire)

Man, I'm so hot my motherfuckin' firetruck's on fire, homie

(You're on fire)

You need to stop, drop, and roll

'Cause when you say the shit to get

The whole Hip Hop shop to blow

(You're on fire, you're on fire)