Perfectionist (Explicit) - The Alchemist/Rick Ross/Meek Mill

Hustle out of necessity

Father never corrected me

Streets showed me no sympathy

Audemar my accessory huh

Never accurate

I'm aiming at your Acura yeah

Heart rate accelerate on other amateurs

And I murder anything in my parameter

If they disrespect us

We slide on them like a banister

Dodging fed cameras

Balling like f**k stamina

Block doing numbers

I graduated to manager

Bricks in the Maybach

Bricks in the Escalade

Bricks on Brickell

We got bricks in the bay

San Fran bricks got bricks in L A

Publisher watch the money

I got bricks on this plane

And my ni**a 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 lay

Rule number one

Never keep them bricks where you stay

All my women photogenic they never depreciate

Pop up in ya city

It's strictly about the cake

Quarters to half's on my road to the riches

All real niggas just playing different positions

Ross gon be the quarterback

I'm a run this quarter back

Feds try to intercept a ni**a

Like a corner back

Make a ni**a pay a couple birds to

Get his daughter back

Get the dirty money

Clean it all up at the Laundromat

I'm allergic to failure h****n paraphernalia

Frank Lucas furs at the fight on my cellular

Ball like Mayweather

Don King at the register

I stack chedder It's etcetera etcetera

I'm addicted to winning

Pretty women and spinning

Ferragamo and linen

A ni**a start and he finish

D A label me menace mama call me a king

So therefore I'm dropping soon

Like Tyson was in the ring hah

Coca-cola minx Canary yellow stones

I'm a stunt if it mean I gotta break a bone

Me and Meek Milly in the hood on chrome

Double M G and we 20 million strong

Don't matter if It's chess

Qr checkers cause It's all blocks

I'm in this 911 Porsche with a bald spot

No roof fresh off the car lot

And we don't call cops ni**a

We just call shots

F**k the competition

I bury the cock-a-roaches

Faint when you see what

I pull up out the holster

Can't even breath

Remember what yo mama told ya

We the real g's and the well paid soldiers

So if you niggas scared call the feds up

We taking over

I'm just giving niggas heads up

We shoot them down

Just to let them know we dead up

8 figure ni**a tell the labels

Give that bread up

MMG