Eminem – On Fire

You know, critics, man
Critics never got nothing nice to say, man
You know the one thing I notice about critics, man
Is critics never ask me how my day went
Well I’mma tell ’em

[Verse 1]
Yesterday my dog died
I hog tied a ho
Tied her in a bow
Said "Next time you blog, try to spit a flow"
You wanna criticize, dog? Try a little mo’
I’m so tired of this I could blow
Fire in the hole
I’m fired up
So fire up the lighter and the dro
Better hold on a little tighter, here I go
Flows tighter
Hot headed as Ghost Rider
Cold hearted as Spiderman throwing a spider in the snow
So you better get lower
Than Florida
Inside of a lowrider
With no tires, in a hole
Why am I like this? Why is winter cold
Why is it when I talk I’m so biased to the hoes
Listen dog
Christmas is off
This is as soft as it gets
This isn’t golf
This is a blistering assault
Those are your wounds, this is the salt
So get lost
Shit, dissing me is just like pissing off
The Wizard of Oz
Wrap a lizard in gauze
Beat you in the jaws with it
Grab the scissors and saws
And cut out your livers, gizzards, and balls
Throw you in the middle of the ocean
In a blizzard with Jaws
So sip piss like sizzurp through a straw
Then describe how it tasted like dessert to us all
Got the gall
To make Chris piss in his drawers
Tickle him, go to his grave
Skip him, and visit his dog

(You’re on fire)
Thats how you know you’re on a roll
Cause when you’re hot its like you’re burning up
Everyone else’s cold
(You’re on fire)
Man, I’m so fucking sick
I got ambulances pulling me over and shit
(You’re on fire)
You need to stop, drop, and roll
Cause when you say the shit to get
The whole Hip Hop shop to blow
(You’re on fire, you’re on fire)

[Verse 2]
I just put a bullshit 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 fucking flash in the pan
I pop up, you bitches 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 ass with it again
Saliva’s like sulfuric acid in your hand
It’ll eat through anything, metal, the ass of Iron Man
Turn him into plastic
So for you to think that you could stand a fucking 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
Fuck it, I ain’t playing
Pull up in a van
And hop out at a homeless man
Holding a sign saying
"Vietnam vet", I’m out my fucking mind man
Kick over the can
Beat his ass, and leave him 9 grand
So if I seem a little mean to you
This ain’t savage
You ain’t never seen a brute
You want to get graphic
We can go the scenic route
You couldn’t make a bulimic puke
On a piece of fucking corn and peanut poop
Saying you sick
Quit playing, you prick
Don’t nobody care
And why the fuck am I yelling at air
I ain’t even talking to no one
‘Cause ain’t nobody there
Nobody will fucking 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
Naw, don’t waste it
Save it, psycho, yeah
Plus you got to rewrite those lines
That you said about Michael’s hair

(You’re on fire)
Thats how ya know you’re on a roll
Cause when you’re hot its like you’re burnin up
Everyone else’s cold
(You’re on fire)
Man, I’m so hot
My motherfucking firetruck’s on fire, homie
(You’re on fire)
Ya need to stop drop and roll
‘Cause when you say the shit to get
The whole hip hop shop to blow
You’re on fire
You’re on fire
You’re on fire

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