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roddy ricch - nothing new lyrics

[intro]
tank god

[chorus: roddy ricch]
i f-ck with bad b-tches, i got them big racks
tryna feel the safe, n-gga, these n-ggas big cap
rollin’ the big body, i had the seat back
i need a bag, n-gga, f-ck 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 n-gga been in my bag, ain’t no hurtin’ me, yeah
pull up in that 911 like emergency
she wanna meet my b-tch [?], bring me first degree
in that [?] i gotta pull up strong like i’m hercules
got three b-tches with me, they poppin’ they perkies with me
i got my louis bag, i gotta keep 30 with me
i went from the pyrex, now a n-gga poppin’ fly sh-t
i came from the projects, n-gga know i’ma die rich
got a bad b-tch, chase a bag, and she 5’6″
[?] 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 n-gga shinin’, yeah

[verse 2: unknown]
lately, i been crossin’ out my ex’s
put an x on her, that an x-b-tch
but the -ss 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 f-ck, 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 f-ck with bad b-tches, i got them big racks
tryna feel the safe, n-gga, these n-ggas big cap
rollin’ the big body, i had the seat back
i need a bag, n-gga, f-ck 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 f-ck with bad b-tches (bad), my ‘lil b-tch don’t listen (nah)
every time i’ll tell her [?], she wanna do different (what?)
my ‘lil n-gga on the block gon’ shoot (bah)
and i [?] love my block, i need a room (rah)
headshot, n-gga, 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 [?] 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

- roddy ricch lyrics

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