Lirik Lagu Perfectionist feat. Meek Mill - Rick Ross
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Hustle out of necessity, father never corrected meStreets showed me no sympathy, Audemar my accessory, huhNever accurate, I’m aiming at your Acura, yeahHeart rate accelerate on other amateurs
And I murder anything in my perimeterIf they disrespect us we slide on them like a banisterDodging fat cameras, balling like fuck staminaBlock doing numbers, I graduated the mansion
Bricks in the Maybach, bricks in the EscaladeBricks on brickle, we got bricks in the baySan Fran bricks got bricks in L.A.Publisher watch the money, I got bricks on this plane
And my nigger brick on his way, just did a dime for a brick of the Yay’I’m switching up my bricks like my kicks with my layRule number one, never keep them bricks where you stay
All my women photogenic they never depreciatePop up in ya city, it’s strictly about the cakeQuarters to half’s on my road to the richesAll real niggers just playing different positions
Ross can be the quarter back, I’ma run his quarter backFeds try to intercept a nigger like a corner backMake a nigger pay a couple birds, get his daughter backGet the dirty money, clean it all up at the Laundromat
I’m allergic to failure, heroin paraphernaliaFrank Lucas furs at the fight on my cellularBall like Mayweather, Don King at the registerI stack chedder, it’s etcetera, etcetera
I’m addicted to winning, pretty women and spinnin’Ferragamo on linen, a nigger starting he finishD.A. label me menace, mama call me a kingSo therefore I’m dropping soon like Tyson was in the ring
Coca-cola minx, Canary yellow stonesI’ma stunt if it mean I gotta break a boneMe and Meek Milly in the hood on chromeDouble-M G and we 20 million strong
Doesn’t matter if it’s chess or checkers cause it’s all blocks (bricks)I’m in this 911 Porsche with a bald spotNo roof, fresh off the car lotAnd we don’t call cops nigger, we just call shots
Fuck the competition I bury the cockroachesThink when you see what I pull up out the holsterCan’t even breath, remember what yo mama told yaWe the real g’s and the well paid soldiers
So if you nigger scared, call the feds upWe taking over I’m just giving niggers heads upWe shoot them down, just to let them know we dead up8 figure nigger, tell the labels, get our bread up
MMG, bitch, Maybach Music, we just do shit like this for no reason
And I murder anything in my perimeterIf they disrespect us we slide on them like a banisterDodging fat cameras, balling like fuck staminaBlock doing numbers, I graduated the mansion
Bricks in the Maybach, bricks in the EscaladeBricks on brickle, we got bricks in the baySan Fran bricks got bricks in L.A.Publisher watch the money, I got bricks on this plane
And my nigger brick on his way, just did a dime for a brick of the Yay’I’m switching up my bricks like my kicks with my layRule number one, never keep them bricks where you stay
All my women photogenic they never depreciatePop up in ya city, it’s strictly about the cakeQuarters to half’s on my road to the richesAll real niggers just playing different positions
Ross can be the quarter back, I’ma run his quarter backFeds try to intercept a nigger like a corner backMake a nigger pay a couple birds, get his daughter backGet the dirty money, clean it all up at the Laundromat
I’m allergic to failure, heroin paraphernaliaFrank Lucas furs at the fight on my cellularBall like Mayweather, Don King at the registerI stack chedder, it’s etcetera, etcetera
I’m addicted to winning, pretty women and spinnin’Ferragamo on linen, a nigger starting he finishD.A. label me menace, mama call me a kingSo therefore I’m dropping soon like Tyson was in the ring
Coca-cola minx, Canary yellow stonesI’ma stunt if it mean I gotta break a boneMe and Meek Milly in the hood on chromeDouble-M G and we 20 million strong
Doesn’t matter if it’s chess or checkers cause it’s all blocks (bricks)I’m in this 911 Porsche with a bald spotNo roof, fresh off the car lotAnd we don’t call cops nigger, we just call shots
Fuck the competition I bury the cockroachesThink when you see what I pull up out the holsterCan’t even breath, remember what yo mama told yaWe the real g’s and the well paid soldiers
So if you nigger scared, call the feds upWe taking over I’m just giving niggers heads upWe shoot them down, just to let them know we dead up8 figure nigger, tell the labels, get our bread up
MMG, bitch, Maybach Music, we just do shit like this for no reason
