Paroles de la chanson On Fire par Young Thug

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Paroles de la chanson On Fire par Young Thug

Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on him
Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on 'em
You made him mad, he put you right back on the, shelf
You made him mad, he put you right back where you started
Ain't got no more wristbands―
(Woah, woah, woah, woah)
Yeah 'bouta stack up my figures
(Woah, woah, woah, woah)
Fuck you thought? Pussy ass nigga
Hop off a jet (hop off a jet)
Hop off a jet (hop off a skrrt)
Hop off a jet (hop on a jet)

Hop off a jet (hold on!)

Shot that boy so many times he caught on fire
Every single night I'm spittin' fire
Tryna count my profit, baby watch 'em
I'm tired of one, I need to threesome (yeah)
I need a threesome (threesome, yeah)
Girls give me the threesome (oh)
Three, three, three, three, three, three, threesome
Push your head up and be strong
Every city I leave I lean on
Ashes in the Bentley, I'm that raw
Wooden room in my Japanese home
Rockin' Guess in my Japanese drawers (rockin' Guess)
My friends signed my Japanese wall
Vintage clothes, they kinda cost

I think you lost, baby girl I think you lost but

Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on him
Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on 'em
You made him mad, he put you right back on the, shelf
You made him mad, he put you right back where you started
Ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me
Ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me
I'm in love with my clan, 'bouta tat they names on me
You can't trick me like I got the answers tatted on me

And ain't got no scratches on me

I got a ratchet ho and I got this ratchet on me
My life like dominoes, I can't make mistakes lil' homie
Ayy, I ain't got no scratches nowhere
I got good skin like a Covergirl
You can come and chill with me
Let's drink a pint of codeine
Plus when she on syrup she a lil easy
Breezy Beautiful Thugger Girls with me
Enjoy the wealth until you're gone
Pillsbury Doughboy on strong
Wearing the seat belt just 'cause my son
I put a puddle on the neck of my son
I got some Act, I got some red in my tummy
I want some velvet on my Maybach in a month
I got the Benz, still ain't traded in or nothin'

I got like twenty cars, baby pick one

Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on him
Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on 'em
You made him mad, he put you right back on the, shelf
You made him mad, he put you right back where you started
Ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me
Ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me
I'm in love with my clan, 'bouta tat they names on me
You can't trick me like I got the answers tatted on me

And ain't got no scratches on me

Got bloody, murder on my boots, mm
You kick 'em, that bitch the swoop, mm
How dare you, I kick ya ruler (hrrah, mm)
My chains, I'm Rick the Ruler, mm
That's foreign, ain't old school, mm
We killin', ain't tryna sue you, mm
Came a long way from ramen noodles, mm
2017 Porshes zoom, mm
I see you eatin' girl, you full, mhm
Got Molly in my Red Bull, ah-huh
I'm with the dogs, and yeah we cruel, uh-huh
Everything you do be fire like you

Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on him
Don't make him mad, he'll put that side bitch on 'em

You made him mad, he put you right back on the, shelf
You made him mad, he put you right back where you started
Ain't got no more wristbands―
(Woah, woah, woah, woah)
Yeah 'bouta suck on my figures
(Woah, woah, woah, woah)
Fuck you thought? Pussy ass nigga
Hop off a jet (hop off a jet)
Hop off a jet (hop off a skrrt)
Hop off a jet (hop on a jet)
Hop off a jet (hold on!)

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