[Intro]
Tank God
[Chorus: Roddy Ricch]
I fu*k with bad b*tches, I got them big racks
Tryna feel the safe, ni**a, these ni**as big cap
Rollin' the big body, I had the seat back
I need a bag, ni**a, fu*k all the chit-chat
And I spent a thousand on my shoes
Spent a hundred-twenty on the jewels
Twenty 50's, this ain't nothin' new
I been in a coupe, ain't got no roof
[Verse 1: Roddy Ricch]
A ni**a been in my bag, ain't no hurtin' me, yeah
Pull up in that 911 like emergency
She wanna meet my b*tch fire, burnt me first degree
In that Range I gotta pull up strong like I'm Hercules
Got three b*tches with me, they poppin' they Perky's with me
I got my Louis bag, I gotta keep 30 with me
I went from the Pyrex, now a ni**a poppin' fly sh*t
I came from the projects, ni**a know I'ma die rich
Got a bad b*tch, chase a bag, and she 5'6"
Put it in the Rollie and you know it's perfect timin'
Went and got a safe, got in the car, she was drivin'
I'ma pop my sh*t, you know a young ni**a shinin', yeah
[Chorus: Roddy Ricch]
I fu*k with bad b*tches, I got them big racks
Tryna feel the safe, ni**a, these ni**as big cap
Rollin' the big body, I had the seat back
I need a bag, ni**a, fu*k all the chit-chat
And I spent a thousand on my shoes
Spent a hundred-twenty on the jewels
Twenty 50's, this ain't nothin' new
I been in a coupe, ain't got no roof
[Verse 2: Sash]
Lately, I been crossin' out my ex's
Put an X on her, that an X-b*tch
But the ass big like Texas
Hit it in the hills, crossin' off my check list
She just gave my neck, she saw my necklace, oh sh*t
In LA on [?], eatin' breakfast
Diamonds certified, you can test all this sh*t
I don't give a fu*k, I be reckless
Me and Roddy skirt off in a coupe (Skrt)
Roddy don't ever have a roof
She be givin' neck up in the booth
We be smokin' gas [?]
[Chorus: Roddy Ricch & Pressa]
I fu*k with bad b*tches, I got them big racks
Tryna feel the safe, ni**a, these ni**as big cap
Rollin' the big body, I had the seat back
I need a bag, ni**a, fu*k all the chit-chat
And I spent a thousand on my shoes
Spent a hundred-twenty on the jewels
Twenty 50's, this ain't nothin' new (Press)
I been in a coupe, ain't got no roof (Yeah)
[Verse 3: Pressa]
I fu*k with bad b*tches (Bad), my 'lil b*tch don't listen (Nah)
Every time I'll tell her right, she wanna do different (Why?)
My lil' ni**a on the block gon' shoot (Blah)
And I don't love my Glock, I need a room (Rah)
Headshot, ni**a, then we skirt
And I don't beg the label for a verse (Never)
I need that work, my lil' b*tch need a purse (Ah)
She do the worst, and act like it don't hurt, uh (Uh)
And, kush deadmihana got me paranoid (Yo)
My shooters they gon' cut, might just hit a boy (Murder)
Came from trappin' out the bando to a livin' boy (Trap)
And they just might mistake me for a lil' boy
[Chorus: Roddy Ricch]
I fu*k with bad b*tches, I got them big racks
Tryna feel the safe, ni**a, these ni**as big cap
Rollin' the big body, I had the seat back
I need a bag, ni**a, fu*k all the chit-chat
And I spent a thousand on my shoes
Spent a hundred-twenty on the jewels
Twenty 50's, this ain't nothin' new
I been in a coupe, ain't got no roof