Young Thug
Young Thug - On Fire songtekst
Je score:
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!