Young Thug

Young Thug - On Fire lyrics

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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)

f**k 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!



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



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)

f**k 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!
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Language: English

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