Roddy Ricch - Brand New
(Hunnid bands for a kilo, nigga)I didn't know who to trust, wasn't hidin' the coupe
Wasn't hidin' my bag, yeah, I didn't know what to do
Gotta get this money, you can't let it change you
But I can't lie, all these hunnids got a nigga feelin' brand new
I just fucked my main bitch on a private jet to Cancun
Gave her my heart before I knew the bitch was ran through
That's why when it come to these hoes, I gotta stay in love with double cup, yeah
Chasin' the bag, that's on the regular, I gotta run it up, yeah
When it came to gettin' racks, I got new dividends
Got a thick brown skin bitch, I call her Cinnamon
Took some losses in these streets, I gotta pack and then wait for the win
I had to tuck a mil', I got in the field, nigga, then I did it again
I was in the streets lil' nigga, I really went platinum, yeah
Feelin' like Joe when I was in the trap, I was whippin' up Jacksons, yeah
I was down bad, niggas turned they backs, yeah
They ain't know that I was fillin' up the mattress, yeah
I was just a broke nigga, now a nigga designer my feet
'17 foreign car, tinted windows, ridin' down the street, yeah
I gotta feed the streets, the motto is "All my niggas gotta eat"
I had to trap it out, I wasn't even gettin' no sleep, yeah
I didn't know who to trust, wasn't hidin' the coupe
Wasn't hidin' my bag, yeah, I didn't know what to do
Gotta get this money, you can't let it change you
But I can't lie, all these hunnids got a nigga feelin' brand new
I just fucked my main bitch on a private jet to Cancun
Gave her my heart before I knew the bitch was ran through
That's why when it come to these hoes, I gotta stay in love with double cup, yeah
Chasin' the bag, that's on the regular, I gotta run it up, yeah
Ayy, gotta put my new bitch in a mink
She collect the bag like a Brink
And that shit mean everything to me
'Cause she gotta ball like me
I was gettin' off of robbin', I was on and off the road
Had to learn the hard way that these streets so cold
Celebratin' with the Ace of Spade, pourin' up the rose gold
You would think I was in the garden how I'm pullin' up the Rolls
You would think that I'm a shredder how I'm fuckin' up a check
And I ain't never played tennis but I got a couple on my neck
She say she want me to flood the face to get the Audemars Piguet
I'm the youngest richest nigga that been poppin' out the set
I got the answers, nigga, I don't need no auto-correct
Got it jumpin' out my own city, then I moved to Brooklyn like the Nets, yeah, yeah
I didn't know who to trust, wasn't hidin' the coupe
Wasn't hidin' my bag, yeah, I didn't know what to do
Gotta get this money, you can't let it change you
But I can't lie, all these hunnids got a nigga feelin' brand new
I just fucked my main bitch on a private jet to Cancun
Gave her my heart before I knew the bitch was ran through
That's why when it come to these hoes, I gotta stay in love with double cup, yeah
Chasin' the bag, that's on the regular, I gotta run it up, yeah
Written by:
Brain Anamayatana, Milan Modi, Paul Cabbin, Rodrick Moore
Publisher:
Lyrics © STREAMCUT MEDIA, LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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