"Nothing New" lyrics - RODDY RICCH

RODDY RICCH

"Nothing New"

feat. Pressa

[Intro:]
Tank God

[Chorus: Roddy Ricch]
I fuck with bad bitches, I got them big racks
Tryna feel the safe, nigga, these niggas big cap
Rollin' the big body, I had the seat back
I need a bag, nigga, fuck 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 nigga been in my bag, ain't no hurtin' me, yeah
Pull up in that 911 like emergency
She wanna meet my bitch fire, burnt me first degree
In that Range I gotta pull up strong like I'm Hercules
Got three bitches with me, they poppin' they percies with me
I got my Louis bag, I gotta keep 30 with me
I went from the Pyrex, now a nigga poppin' fly shit
I came from the projects, nigga know I'ma die rich
Got a bad bitch, 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 shit, you know a young nigga shinin', yeah

[Verse 2: Sash]
Lately, I been crossin' out my ex's
Put an X on her, that an X-bitch
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 shit
In LA on [?], eatin' breakfast
Diamonds certified, you can test all this shit
I don't give a fuck, 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 fuck with bad bitches, I got them big racks
Tryna feel the safe, nigga, these niggas big cap
Rollin' the big body, I had the seat back
I need a bag, nigga, fuck 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 fuck with bad bitches (Bad), my 'lil bitch don't listen (Nah)
Every time I'll tell her [?], she wanna do different (What?)
My 'lil nigga on the block gon' shoot (Bah)
And I [?] love my block, I need a room (Rah)
Headshot, nigga, then we skirt
And I don't beg the label for a verse (Never)
I need that work, my 'lil bitch 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