| Hustle out of necessity, father never corrected me
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| Streets showed me no sympathy, Audemar my accessory, huh
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| Never accurate, I’m aiming at your Acura, yeah
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| Heart rate accelerate on other amateurs
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| And I murder anything in my perimeter
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| If they disrespect us we slide on them like a banister
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| Dodging fat cameras, balling like fuck stamina
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| Block doing numbers, I graduated the mansion
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| Bricks in the Maybach, bricks in the Escalade
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| Bricks on brickle, we got bricks in the bay
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| San Fran bricks got bricks in L.A.
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| Publisher watch the money, I got bricks on this plane
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| And my nigger brick on his way, just did a dime for a brick of the Yay'
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| I’m switching up my bricks like my kicks with my lay
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| Rule number one, never keep them bricks where you stay
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| All my women photogenic they never depreciate
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| Pop up in ya city, it’s strictly about the cake
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| Quarters to half’s on my road to the riches
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| All real niggers just playing different positions
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| Ross can be the quarter back, I’ma run his quarter back
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| Feds try to intercept a nigger like a corner back
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| Make a nigger pay a couple birds, get his daughter back
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| Get the dirty money, clean it all up at the Laundromat
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| I’m allergic to failure, heroin paraphernalia
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| Frank Lucas furs at the fight on my cellular
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| Ball like Mayweather, Don King at the register
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| I stack chedder, it’s etcetera, etcetera
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| I’m addicted to winning, pretty women and spinnin'
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| Ferragamo on linen, a nigger starting he finish
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| D.A. |
| label me menace, mama call me a king
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| So therefore I’m dropping soon like Tyson was in the ring
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| Coca-cola minx, Canary yellow stones
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| I’ma stunt if it mean I gotta break a bone
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| Me and Meek Milly in the hood on chrome
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| Double-M G and we 20 million strong
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| Doesn’t matter if it’s chess or checkers cause it’s all blocks (bricks)
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| I’m in this 911 Porsche with a bald spot
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| No roof, fresh off the car lot
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| And we don’t call cops nigger, we just call shots
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| Fuck the competition I bury the cockroaches
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| Think when you see what I pull up out the holster
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| Can’t even breath, remember what yo mama told ya
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| We the real g’s and the well paid soldiers
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| So if you nigger scared, call the feds up
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| We taking over I’m just giving niggers heads up
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| We shoot them down, just to let them know we dead up
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| 8 figure nigger, tell the labels, get our bread up
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| MMG, bitch, Maybach Music, we just do shit like this for no reason |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Perfectionist , by - The Alchemist. Song from the album The Cutting Room Floor 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп