Roddy Ricch – Gods Eyes Lyrics

Gods Eyes

Roddy Ricch

Lyrics copied!

"Gods Eyes." - Roddy Ricch

Wednesday, 16 September 2026, 01:57 am

Album: Please Excuse Me For Being Antisocial

Track No: 07

He thought the money make you happy
It don't make you different
I start to see that shit myself when I got a couple million
Crawled through the mud, I can't lie, I seen too much
Real steppers outside, they'll squeeze and bust

I told my brother have some patience and your day'll come
Now he sittin' in the county jail and he ain't got no bond
You can't walk inside my shoes like a Sneaker Con
I overcome obstacles and they still come

I was tryna make a way out, like it was my first day out
Remember my first day out, now I got M's in account
I eat that pussy like steak, she eat my dick like a crepe
I got some niggas in the South, I sip on purple like grape

These streets by my side, you don't want war with us
I felt so stuck in my life I had to pour me a cup
If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry, I don't apologize
My penthouse got a bird's view through God's eyes
I got gang gang (Gang gang)
I got mob ties (Mob ties)
I got Porsche, with the frog eyes
Got a hand-crafted Jet Jet with a PalmPilot
All this money on my mind, I talk to God about it, yeah, yeah

I gotta grab dough (Grab dough)
Brand new white-white Rolls Royce
And that bitch match her toes (Yeah, yeah)
I was out flockin', I ain't have a choice
I ain't even had no clothes
I put my wrist inside the freezer, watch the Patek froze

Think about the time, man, we was ten
We was hoppin' fences
I was stayin' inside the trenches
I keep a strap for you and you, I know the opps intentions
Back in Genesis I was O.T. with the coco
She got a bangin' body, booty like a roller coaster

These streets by my side, you don't want war with us
I felt so stuck in my life I had to pour me a cup
If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry, I don't apologize
My penthouse got a bird's view through God's eyes
I got gang gang (Gang gang)
I got mob ties (Mob ties)
I got Porsche, with the frog eyes
Got a hand-crafted Jet Jet with a PalmPilot
All this money on my mind, I talk to God about it, yeah, yeah

Writer(s): Sonic, Roddy Ricch.

All lyrical content displayed on this website is the intellectual property of its respective copyright holders. No ownership is implied, and no copyright infringement is intended.