On Fire Lyrics
| Song | On Fire |
| Artist | Redman |
| Album | Muddy Waters |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| ("them bitches swear they fly...") | |
| Hahha | |
| Now everytime i grab the mic i always start shit up | |
| Sharper than your double-edger, watch me cough shit up | |
| Live and direct, respect it to the underground connect | |
| Pah!! i'm wreckin any mc you select | |
| Yo e, load me in your gun, light the flares | |
| Give me forty-eight bars, and i go out like gays at billy bear | |
| Wear and tear, i'm wreckin for the bricks is where | |
| Jump in my way and get your body splattered everywhere | |
| Conjunction junction what's your function | |
| It's that nigga who's so swift i could lose a compass | |
| Step into jams, with seven niggaz in a land | |
| And forty mother****ers in some ****ed up caravan | |
| Drop the farenheight back down to zero | |
| Bring heat to the streets like i'm pacino and deniro | |
| Raw dog material, grand imperial | |
| Talk to my shotty nigga, my ears ain't hearin you | |
| So take heed to what i'm saying | |
| Cause tonight's the night, and me and my nuccas ain't playing | |
| Now do i look crazy? deranged, maybe? | |
| You shot first, your glock burst, but it graze me | |
| Now time for lyrics, put up your guns | |
| And watch me get this shit hoppin like the west was won | |
| Got that lyrical chicken feed, for all chicken heads | |
| Crowd your rap city committee, like i'm [big leads] | |
| Most bigger than them melendez brothers | |
| You need cochran when you're ****in with judge red | |
| Put your fingers up if you love hash and cash | |
| I been that way since ike turner was kickin tina ass | |
| Hookers ridin dick, like i'm a motorcycle | |
| You wanna shine bitch? let me simonize you | |
| I make sure your vision blur, till you don't know what occurred | |
| Until i black out every nerver | |
| Foul women get served as chicken head hors d'ouerves | |
| I drop your tops like your heads was convertibles!! | |
| Hah, if you still look up in the sky i'm still high | |
| All the way live like lakeside | |
| Wann die? e (whattup son), you got this beat pumpin | |
| The way i feel niggaz ain't leave until they up in somethin | |
| Pack my dutch like the niggaz in the county | |
| Dayrooms, stay tuned, for doc illuminati | |
| Up around them big butt freaks is where you find me | |
| (martini and rossi, asti spumante) | |
| So take heed to what i'm saying | |
| Cause tonight's the night, and me and my nuccas ain't playing | |
| To my people in the back, if you're not the wack, say | |
| Don't stop, the body rock | |
| To my people in the front, if you're tokin on blunts, say | |
| Don't stop, the body rock... aoowwwwwowwwww | |
| I'm too strong for you to listen | |
| I started spittin, that's why the brick niggaz be lickin | |
| They stay on magazine written equipments | |
| I'm smokin leaky out the lec-y, fatal | |
| My squad steps with the ultimatum, true dat | |
| My muzak, move crowds, like down the hill moved crack | |
| For those who stepped on toes, i want my shoes back | |
| Buddy, bringin money to your girl | |
| For your little daughter like i'm cutty | |
| Twenty dollars a pop to dub me, i bug g, quote it | |
| I see you notice how i leave microphones corroded | |
| Hahahahaha, your staff not up to par | |
| You raw, you're more like zsa zsa gabor | |
| Call deep niggaz, keep the gas pedal floored | |
| And i pump the funk to keep a room and board | |
| *record scratches, rooster cackles* |
| " them bitches swear they fly..." | |
| Hahha | |
| Now everytime i grab the mic i always start shit up | |
| Sharper than your doubleedger, watch me cough shit up | |
| Live and direct, respect it to the underground connect | |
| Pah!! i' m wreckin any mc you select | |
| Yo e, load me in your gun, light the flares | |
| Give me fortyeight bars, and i go out like gays at billy bear | |
| Wear and tear, i' m wreckin for the bricks is where | |
| Jump in my way and get your body splattered everywhere | |
| Conjunction junction what' s your function | |
| It' s that nigga who' s so swift i could lose a compass | |
| Step into jams, with seven niggaz in a land | |
| And forty mother ers in some ed up caravan | |
| Drop the farenheight back down to zero | |
| Bring heat to the streets like i' m pacino and deniro | |
| Raw dog material, grand imperial | |
| Talk to my shotty nigga, my ears ain' t hearin you | |
| So take heed to what i' m saying | |
| Cause tonight' s the night, and me and my nuccas ain' t playing | |
| Now do i look crazy? deranged, maybe? | |
| You shot first, your glock burst, but it graze me | |
| Now time for lyrics, put up your guns | |
| And watch me get this shit hoppin like the west was won | |
| Got that lyrical chicken feed, for all chicken heads | |
| Crowd your rap city committee, like i' m big leads | |
| Most bigger than them melendez brothers | |
| You need cochran when you' re in with judge red | |
| Put your fingers up if you love hash and cash | |
| I been that way since ike turner was kickin tina ass | |
| Hookers ridin dick, like i' m a motorcycle | |
| You wanna shine bitch? let me simonize you | |
| I make sure your vision blur, till you don' t know what occurred | |
| Until i black out every nerver | |
| Foul women get served as chicken head hors d' ouerves | |
| I drop your tops like your heads was convertibles!! | |
| Hah, if you still look up in the sky i' m still high | |
| All the way live like lakeside | |
| Wann die? e whattup son, you got this beat pumpin | |
| The way i feel niggaz ain' t leave until they up in somethin | |
| Pack my dutch like the niggaz in the county | |
| Dayrooms, stay tuned, for doc illuminati | |
| Up around them big butt freaks is where you find me | |
| martini and rossi, asti spumante | |
| So take heed to what i' m saying | |
| Cause tonight' s the night, and me and my nuccas ain' t playing | |
| To my people in the back, if you' re not the wack, say | |
| Don' t stop, the body rock | |
| To my people in the front, if you' re tokin on blunts, say | |
| Don' t stop, the body rock... aoowwwwwowwwww | |
| I' m too strong for you to listen | |
| I started spittin, that' s why the brick niggaz be lickin | |
| They stay on magazine written equipments | |
| I' m smokin leaky out the lecy, fatal | |
| My squad steps with the ultimatum, true dat | |
| My muzak, move crowds, like down the hill moved crack | |
| For those who stepped on toes, i want my shoes back | |
| Buddy, bringin money to your girl | |
| For your little daughter like i' m cutty | |
| Twenty dollars a pop to dub me, i bug g, quote it | |
| I see you notice how i leave microphones corroded | |
| Hahahahaha, your staff not up to par | |
| You raw, you' re more like zsa zsa gabor | |
| Call deep niggaz, keep the gas pedal floored | |
| And i pump the funk to keep a room and board | |
| record scratches, rooster cackles |
| " them bitches swear they fly..." | |
| Hahha | |
| Now everytime i grab the mic i always start shit up | |
| Sharper than your doubleedger, watch me cough shit up | |
| Live and direct, respect it to the underground connect | |
| Pah!! i' m wreckin any mc you select | |
| Yo e, load me in your gun, light the flares | |
| Give me fortyeight bars, and i go out like gays at billy bear | |
| Wear and tear, i' m wreckin for the bricks is where | |
| Jump in my way and get your body splattered everywhere | |
| Conjunction junction what' s your function | |
| It' s that nigga who' s so swift i could lose a compass | |
| Step into jams, with seven niggaz in a land | |
| And forty mother ers in some ed up caravan | |
| Drop the farenheight back down to zero | |
| Bring heat to the streets like i' m pacino and deniro | |
| Raw dog material, grand imperial | |
| Talk to my shotty nigga, my ears ain' t hearin you | |
| So take heed to what i' m saying | |
| Cause tonight' s the night, and me and my nuccas ain' t playing | |
| Now do i look crazy? deranged, maybe? | |
| You shot first, your glock burst, but it graze me | |
| Now time for lyrics, put up your guns | |
| And watch me get this shit hoppin like the west was won | |
| Got that lyrical chicken feed, for all chicken heads | |
| Crowd your rap city committee, like i' m big leads | |
| Most bigger than them melendez brothers | |
| You need cochran when you' re in with judge red | |
| Put your fingers up if you love hash and cash | |
| I been that way since ike turner was kickin tina ass | |
| Hookers ridin dick, like i' m a motorcycle | |
| You wanna shine bitch? let me simonize you | |
| I make sure your vision blur, till you don' t know what occurred | |
| Until i black out every nerver | |
| Foul women get served as chicken head hors d' ouerves | |
| I drop your tops like your heads was convertibles!! | |
| Hah, if you still look up in the sky i' m still high | |
| All the way live like lakeside | |
| Wann die? e whattup son, you got this beat pumpin | |
| The way i feel niggaz ain' t leave until they up in somethin | |
| Pack my dutch like the niggaz in the county | |
| Dayrooms, stay tuned, for doc illuminati | |
| Up around them big butt freaks is where you find me | |
| martini and rossi, asti spumante | |
| So take heed to what i' m saying | |
| Cause tonight' s the night, and me and my nuccas ain' t playing | |
| To my people in the back, if you' re not the wack, say | |
| Don' t stop, the body rock | |
| To my people in the front, if you' re tokin on blunts, say | |
| Don' t stop, the body rock... aoowwwwwowwwww | |
| I' m too strong for you to listen | |
| I started spittin, that' s why the brick niggaz be lickin | |
| They stay on magazine written equipments | |
| I' m smokin leaky out the lecy, fatal | |
| My squad steps with the ultimatum, true dat | |
| My muzak, move crowds, like down the hill moved crack | |
| For those who stepped on toes, i want my shoes back | |
| Buddy, bringin money to your girl | |
| For your little daughter like i' m cutty | |
| Twenty dollars a pop to dub me, i bug g, quote it | |
| I see you notice how i leave microphones corroded | |
| Hahahahaha, your staff not up to par | |
| You raw, you' re more like zsa zsa gabor | |
| Call deep niggaz, keep the gas pedal floored | |
| And i pump the funk to keep a room and board | |
| record scratches, rooster cackles |
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