Roddy Ricch – Uber Lyrics

Uber

Roddy Ricch

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"Uber." - Roddy Ricch

Wednesday, 16 September 2026, 04:36 am

Album: Feed tha Streets

Track No: 15

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Pinnacle at the top

Tryna show you how I ball baby
I be driving foreign cars baby
Bring you shopping at the mall baby
I'm just tryna show you off baby
Wanna shoot you to the star baby
Wanna shoot you to the star baby
You are baby
IPhone making money moves
Yea you know I'm tryna make a mil baby
I don't mean to pop the ceiling in front you
Wanna tell you how I feel baby
Let me know you keep it real, baby
When I slide you hold the steel baby
You already know they deal baby
Please don't ever fight the feel, baby, yeah, yeah

I'm taking her home cause she seem
That she see the Jewelry when I'm flexin'
I'm running it up for me and you, don't ask me no questions
A lot of niggas try to hate on me but I'm just running up a bag
Three Jane don't miss a young nigga riding up in a Jag
I cannot trust your word I know that you niggas is fraud
You ain't gotta rollie at least I don't got a minute at all
Smoking them moon rocks she said it's gon send her to mars
Cousin was yesterday,
Fuck her today then I'm gon fuck her lil' sister tomorrow

Tryna show you how I ball baby
I be driving foreign cars baby
Bring you shopping at the mall baby
I'm just tryna show you off baby
Wanna shoot you to the star baby
Wanna shoot you to the star baby
You are baby
IPhone making money moves
Yea you know I'm tryna make a mil baby
I don't mean to pop the ceiling in front you
Wanna tell you how I feel baby
Let me know you keep it real baby
When I slide you hold the steel baby
You already know they deal baby
Please don't ever fight the feel, baby, yeah, yeah

She be showing me her real colors, yes sometimes I gotta let it go
And sometimes I gotta let her know, chase the bag with me baby
She finessing on these bitches got me feeling like I pass on the daily
Get the dome put them peas with me we going half on a baby
Introduce you to real now you can detect that these niggas is lame
And she know that I'm balling she
See the gold Cartier sign on the frame
Rolls Royce without the brain thousand dollar Balmain
Bet you know how it came
Bitch, I do it all for the fortune I don't do it for the fame

Tryna show you how I ball baby
I be driving foreign cars baby
Bring you shopping at the mall baby
I'm just tryna show you off baby
Wanna shoot you to the star baby
Wanna shoot you to the star baby
You are baby
IPhone making money moves
Yea you know I'm tryna make a mil baby
I don't mean to pop the ceiling in front you
Wanna tell you how I feel baby
Let me know you keep it real baby
When I slide you hold the steel baby
You already know they deal baby
Please don't ever fight the feel, baby, yeah, yeah

Writer(s): Roddy Ricch.

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