Perfectionist

Hustle out of necessity, father never corrected me

Streets showed me no sympathy, Audemar my accessory

Never accurate, I'm aiming at your Acura

Heart rate accelerate on other amateurs

And I murder anything in my perimeter

If they disrespect us we slide on them like a banister

Dodging fed cameras, balling like fuck a stand meter

Block doing numbers, I graduated to manager

Bricks in the Maybach, bricks in the Escalade

Bricks on Brickley, we got bricks in the bay

San Fran bricks, got bricks in LA

Publisher want some money, I got bricks on this plane

And my **** 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 your city, it's strictly about the cake

Quarters to halves on my road to the riches

All real **** just playing different positions

Ross gon' be the quarterback, I'ma run this quarter back

Feds tryna intercept a **** like a cornerback

Make 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, heroin paraphernalia

Frank Lucas furs at the fight on my cellular

Ball like Mayweather, Don King at the register

I stack cheddar, it's et cetera, et cetera

I'm addicted to winning, pretty women and spending

Ferragamo and linen, a **** start and he finish

DA label me menace, mama call me a king

So therefore I'm dropping soon like Tyson was in the ring

Coca-Cola mink, canary yellow stones

I'ma stunt if it mean I gotta break a bone (Boss)

Me and Meek Milly in the hood on chrome

Double MG and we twenty million strong

No matter if it's chess or 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, ****, we just call shots

Fuck the competition, I bury the cockroaches

Faint when you see what I pull up out the holster

Can't even breathe, remember what your mama told ya

We the real G's and the well paid soldiers

So if you **** scared call the feds up

We taking over, I'm just giving **** heads up

We shoot 'em down just to let 'em know we dead up

Eight figure ****, tell the labels give that bread up

MMG, bitch

We just do shit like this for no reason

No pen, no pad flow