Ghetto Superstar Roddy Ricch (Ft. Doe Boy & G Herbo)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Ghetto Superstar" by Roddy Ricch (Ft. Doe Boy & G Herbo). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro]
I got a bullet with your name on it, fuckin' kill 'em
So fuck your eyes, as I sip this Glock, we twistin' livers
I got a bullet with your name on it, fuckin' kill 'em
(Southside on the track, yeah)
So fuck your eyes, as I sip this Glock, we twistin' livers
(Mustard on the beat, ho')
[Chorus: Roddy Ricch]
My money don't sleep (Sleep), I'm slow to speak (Slow to speak)
Pour the whole P (Woo, woo), It's holy (Woo, woo)
Take two-fifty (Yeah, yeah), right overseas (Yeah, yeah)
I'm a ghetto superstar, like I'm ODB (I'm ODB)
My closet clean (Yeah, yeah), rock everythin' (Yeah, yeah)
He wanna shoot it, shoot it, shoot it, let it ring (Woo, woo)
Take everythin' (Woo, woo), and flee the scene (Woo, woo)
Real red fiend, ready for anythin'
[Verse 1: Roddy Ricch]
My young niggas seals, they popping off, hightail and drop 'em off
Internet, they tough as hell, outside, they cotton soft
Drink got a nigga high as hell, I was damn near nodding off
Floor seats, I be fly as hell, wrist frost, I could buy a loft
Three-fifty my service fee, an extra one is courtesy (Ooh, yeah)
Had the Phantom out in London, told 'em "Close the curtains, please"
And she be (And she be), with me every week (With me every week)
Miami Beach, with Doe Bee off a tee (A tee)
New Fazo's, I don't crease 'em up, my Maybach creepin' up
They don't pat me down at no club, I gotta keep it tucked
All the gang ties rooted, like a fuckin' tree trunk
Just make sure you put some respect on it when you speak of us
I got a bullet with your name on it, fuckin' kill 'em
So fuck your eyes, as I sip this Glock, we twistin' livers
I got a bullet with your name on it, fuckin' kill 'em
(Southside on the track, yeah)
So fuck your eyes, as I sip this Glock, we twistin' livers
(Mustard on the beat, ho')
[Chorus: Roddy Ricch]
My money don't sleep (Sleep), I'm slow to speak (Slow to speak)
Pour the whole P (Woo, woo), It's holy (Woo, woo)
Take two-fifty (Yeah, yeah), right overseas (Yeah, yeah)
I'm a ghetto superstar, like I'm ODB (I'm ODB)
My closet clean (Yeah, yeah), rock everythin' (Yeah, yeah)
He wanna shoot it, shoot it, shoot it, let it ring (Woo, woo)
Take everythin' (Woo, woo), and flee the scene (Woo, woo)
Real red fiend, ready for anythin'
[Verse 1: Roddy Ricch]
My young niggas seals, they popping off, hightail and drop 'em off
Internet, they tough as hell, outside, they cotton soft
Drink got a nigga high as hell, I was damn near nodding off
Floor seats, I be fly as hell, wrist frost, I could buy a loft
Three-fifty my service fee, an extra one is courtesy (Ooh, yeah)
Had the Phantom out in London, told 'em "Close the curtains, please"
And she be (And she be), with me every week (With me every week)
Miami Beach, with Doe Bee off a tee (A tee)
New Fazo's, I don't crease 'em up, my Maybach creepin' up
They don't pat me down at no club, I gotta keep it tucked
All the gang ties rooted, like a fuckin' tree trunk
Just make sure you put some respect on it when you speak of us
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!