No news today
No bad news today
No bad moods today
Nothin' to prove today
No news today
No bad news today
Nothin' to prove today, times I used to pray

I got a call from my nigga [?] doin' the bed
Thirty years but still the same nigga I knew as a kid
Put a smile on his face to see me doing my shit
I asked did he have commissary and he said: This shit lit
And his mom just graduated, she just got her degree
And on the phone, I hear his glee, he 'bout as proud as can be
We spent an hour reminiscing how he was wildin' in the street
But by his attitude, you'd think he's getting out in a week
He told me—

No news today
No bad news today
No bad moods today
Nothin' to prove today
No news today
No bad news today
Nothin' to prove today, times I used to pray

Ayy, runnin' in the road, that's bad news
Gang affiliated tattoos
Stakes is high like Wagyu but shit, who asked you?
Top down in the [?] coupe
Them boys really from the concrete, they'll make your wig split like a rat [?]
Okay now, got brands so I'm stayin' out the way now
First class from the Greyhound, you should've stayed down
Plain janes, no more bustdowns
Bro just came home from a touchdown
I told him: Don't look back or fuck 'round
He never listened, say you on demon time, this that exorcism
Bro coppin' lows, it's off my name, they throw some extras in it
So much money pile in my account, it's earnin' that percentage
My daughter's the heiress princess since I took her to Paris, Venice
Her closet embarrass bitches
Chanel diaper bag, fuck it, I don't like to brag
She fly just like her dad
Humble just like her mom, I sit back and write my rhymes
Think about this life of mine while listening to [?] of times

[Chorus: Kanye West & Cordae]
No news today
No bad news today
No bad moods today
Nothin' to prove today
No news today
No bad news today
Nothin' to prove today, times I used to pray