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 Uh, yesterday my dog died I hog tied a hoe, 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 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, dog, 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 (You're on fire) That's how you know you're on a roll 'Cause when you're hot, it's 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) Yeah (You're on fire) Yeah 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 splashin' 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, it's like you're burning 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 (You're on fire) Shit You're on fire