On Fire Lyrics - 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 him 

You made him mad, he put you right back on there 

You made him mad, he put you right back where you started 

Ain't got no more wristband 

(Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa) 

You heard 'bout shaggin' my figures, ey 

(Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa) 

Fuck your thot 

Pussy ass nigga 

Hop off a jet, hop off a Jeep 

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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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 two, threesome (yeah) 

I need a threesome 

Just give me a threesome 

Three, three, three, three, threesome 

Push your head up in these strong arms 

Every single eve I lean on 

Ashes in the Bentley, I'm that raw 

Wedding room in my Japanese home 

Rockin' gas in my Japanese drawers (rockin' gas) 

My friends signed my Japanese wall 

Vintage clothes, they kinda cost 

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

Photos 

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 him 

You made him mad, he put you right back on there 

You made him mad, he put you right back where you started 

Ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me 

He ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me 

I'm in the whip, my clan will tat they names on me 

You can't trick me like I got the answers tatted on me 

It ain't got no scratches on me 

I got a ratchet hoe and I got that ratchet on me 

My life like dominoes, I can't make mistakes lil' homie 

Ay, I ain't got no scratches nowhere 

I got good skin like a cover girl 

You can come and chill with me 

Let's drink a pint of codeine 

Blessed when she on search 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 corder on the neck of my son 

I got your back, I got some red in my tummy 

I want some velvet on my Maybach in a month 

I got the itch, still I 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 him 

You made him mad, he put you right back on there 

You made him mad, he put you right back where you started 

Ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me 

He ain't got no more wristbands but I got bands on me 

I'm in the whip, my clan will tat they names on me 

You can't trick me like I got the answers tatted on me 

It ain't got no scratches on me 

Bird on my boots 

Mm, you kick 'em, let bitches swoop 

Mm, how dare you, I kick a bullet 

Mm, my chains, I'm Rick the Ruler 

Mm, that's foreign, ain't no skoom 

We killin', ain't tryna sue you 

Mm, head a long way from Raymond news 

Mm, 2017 Porshes zoom, mm 

I see you eatin' girl, you full 

Got Molly in my Red Bull 

I'm with the dolls, and yeah we cruel 

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 him 

You made him mad, he put you right back on there 

You made him mad, he put you right back where you started 

Ain't got no more wristbands 

(Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa) 

You heard 'bout shaggin' my figures, ey 

(Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa) 

Fuck your thot 

Pussy ass nigga 

Hop off a jet, hop off a Jeep 

Hop off a jet, hop off skrrt 

Hop off a jet, hop on a jet 

Hop off a jet, hold on!