[Intro]

(Haha)

Yeah

Haha, 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

[Verse 1]

Uh, yesterday my dog died, I hog tied a ho, tied her in a bow

Said, "Next time you blow up, try to spit a flow"

You wanna criticize, dawg? 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 Spider-Man throwin' a spider in the snow

So you better get lower than Flo Rida

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, dawg, Christmas is off, this is as soft as it gets

This isn't golf, this is a blisterin' 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

[Chorus]

(You're on fire) That's how you know you're on a roll

'Cause when you're hot, it's like you're burnin' up everyone else's coal

(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) yeah

(You're on fire) yuh

[Verse 2]

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 lightnin' in a skillet, you're a fuckin' flash in the pan

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

Mister 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 colorin' book

And told him, "Color inside the lines or get hit with a flyin' 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 nine 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 wastin' 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 (Whoops)

[Chorus]

(You're on fire) That's how you know you're on a roll

'Cause when you're hot, it's like you're burnin' up everyone else's cold

(You're on fire) Man, I'm so—, 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) yeah

Oh, shit (You're on fire)