On Fire Lyrics – Bizarre
Singer: Bizarre
Title: On Fire
I rap, like I got a chip on my shoulder
This ain’t no chip, this is a 15 pound boulder
Practicing yoga, meditatin’ on death
Bottle of Vicodin ‘till ain’t nothing left
I got an Idea lets play butt-naked hokey-pokey
Cut off the lights, listen to Esham and hold me [Yeah
Damn my neighbor is nosey, close the blinds
This kid ain’t ten, he’s barely nine
Nice behind. Damn, I’m talkin’ about a kid
I’m talkin’ about rapes, I’m talkin’ about a bed
Mia, my wife’s Spanish she’s been f#ckin’ from the back
I’m in the other room tongue-kissing the cat
“Damn, this is one sick m#th*rf#ck*r [Aha
He talks about rape and he’ll tongue-kiss your brothеr” [Damn
Rape your grandma in the #ss and I put a plug
Hide out for 30 days and wait for hеr period to come [Yeah
30th day I beat her #ss for nothing
b#tch is 65 years old, that period ain’t comin’
I’m a Lutheran, a catholic, a Jehovah witness, a baptist
A Muslim, I’m a faggot, Go-Go Gadget!
Kickin’ down your door with a 44.-matic
And the size will make you shake like a know dope addict
Turn a robbery into something more tragic
“Don’t shoot, here’s my watch it’s all Rolls gold have it”
b#tch! I coined the phrase “I’m goin’ in”
Your mom insisting play the game
The first tongue on my dong wins
They says the Dozen was slippin’, yo how’d you figure that
Slap the drool out of your mouth, tell you to spit a rap
Breakin every bone in your hand, homie Twitter that
I am like a Chinese chef the way I’m killin cats
See a fool screamin at his caddy and then I prop it up
Get the kinda stuff that make your toilet keep stoppin’ up
We cannot stop the cuts after I tie you in a chair
And grab the Ginsu knives, now we can chop it up
I’ll take it easy if your chick’s pregnant
I’ll wait until your kid’s stretchin then sock him in his midsection [ah!
Don’t ever try to slug me, I’ll leave the back of your head bloody
So when you wipe it looks like you’re doin’ the Dougie
So don’t trust me, I’m grimy and unlucky
Voice-mails from your b#tch like, “Kuniva, come f#ck me!”
Gritty, know every nook and cranny of the city
Bullet for every fool that Mr. T pitied
I smell p#ss# and I don’t see t#tt#es
Cash buried underground, Dirty Money, P. Diddy
Shifty off the remmy or the Henny
Hit your Bentley I’m simply demandin
And I’m never f#ckin b#tches gently, gang around
All up in the crib pistol hangin out [sup b#tch
Likes the way I rhyme and I love the way she slang her mouth
[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 f#ckin’ sick
I got ambulances pullin’ me over and sh#t
[You’re on fire
You need to stop, drop, and roll
‘Cause when you say the sh#t to get the whole hip-hop shop to blow
[You’re on fire] Yeah
[You’re on fire] Yuh
If you say that you hungry, then I ain’t concerned
Unless you came in this game with a tapeworm
The phantom of hip-hop, cause this is the doctrine of a madman
And I’m assassinating doctors, no shot treatment is needed
I’m up in the hospital weeded with bloody orthopedics
I’m giving it to innocent people that don’t need it
And I’m exporting you n#gg#s without a heater
Keep them breathin’ nut there’s none worthy
If I ain’t out murkin’ m#th*rf#ck*rs, I’m cold turkey
Or worst thing since Percy
When I was younger, my momma placed me in the dirty nursery
That’s why they labeled me a cursed beast, I’m blood-thirsty
I pop up, unexpectedly like a herpe
I murder you for dirt, cheap
Open up that door like Lurch
And I’m murk the first n#gg# that I see
When I guillotine, I slit a n#gg#s brain
And slit it till you get rap and signature, my name
The pinnacle of insane, my genitals remain
Bigger then a Afro-Puffs, on cranium arrange
Shit, it’s normal till I end with a gauge
Cut your life short, like an editor with blades
I’m a predator, infrared up in the trees
When I conversate I’ll be shootin’ more in a breeze
I breath b#tches to their knees
Givin’ them stitches with a rusted needle and barb wires
Sealin’ their lips I’m justa’, opposite of narcoleptic
I breathe darkness, sleepwalker tearing the tees off these hawkers
I throw you hoes in the ocean
And seen it to souls that the air force is exploding with seahorses
Like me, my sorcerist is talking b#tchy
This ain’t Pulp Fiction, my addiction is torture methods
I just put a b#llsh#t 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 f#ckin’ flash in the pan
I pop up, you b#tches 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 #ss with it again
Saliva’s like sulfuric acid in your hand
It’ll eat through anything, metal, the #ss of Iron Man
Turn him into plastic
So for you to think that you could stand a f#ckin’ 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
f#ck 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 f#ckin’ mind, man
Kick over the can, beat his #ss, 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 f#ckin’ corn and peanut poop
Sayin’ you sick, quit playin’, you prick, don’t nobody care
And why the f#ck am I yellin’ at air?
I ain’t even talkin’ to no one, ’cause ain’t nobody there
And nobody will f#ckin’ 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 [Whoops!]
[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 motherf#ckin’ firetruck’s on fire, homie
[You’re on fire
You need to stop, drop, and roll
‘Cause when you say the sh#t to get the whole hip-hop shop to blow
[You’re on fire] Yeah
Oh, sh#t [You’re on fire]
Married to game a benevolent groom
Bachelor party, arranged shoot up the reverend in June
Reference the goons, you have to give the elephants room
Run sh#t from the elegant room to the president’s tomb
D12, one plus eleven is noon
Make a community feel like heaven’s sent to them
And if I have to get my intelligence room
Be at your residence soon
Guns on me lookin like an evidence room
And that fits range, that python, that sh#t snapped bones
You’d rather be shot with it than b#tch-smacked holmes
After dark DJ’s will put your kid-raps on, but
For that young money my n#gg# you’ll get kidnapped holmes
After triple-countin the bread you can get back home
Collect the ransom, told my driver, “Take this b#tch back home”
Conversation’s recorded, gotta get that phone
It’s got valuable information on the bricks’ that’s flown
The confidential on hoes and the dicks’ that’s blown
D12, the reason ya girl done bring a thick #ss home
And I need help on the b#tches, gotta get back home
So they won’t be asking “When will you get back home?”
I call yo b#tch like “b#tch, come and pick this b#tch up,”
Got her on speed dial, she used to come and get this dick up
She call like “You have a few minutes to come and get this quick nut?”
I have a few second ma, I can get come and get this dick sucked
Fuzz Scoota!
Newest member of D12
What Up!
We Back Mutherf#ckers!
D12
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