Rick Ross - Perfectionist Feat. Meek Mill

Lyrics to Perfectionist Feat. Meek Mill by Rick Ross

[Rick Ross] 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 [Meek Mill] And I murder anything in my perimeter If they disrespect us we slide on them like a banister Dodging fat cameras, balling like f-ck stamina Block doing numbers, I graduated the mansion [Rick Ross] Bricks in the Maybach, bricks in the Escalade Bricks on brickle, we got bricks in the bay San Fran bricks got bricks in L.A. Publisher watch the money, I got bricks on this plane [Meek Mill] And my nigga 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 [Rick Ross] 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 [Meek Mill] Ross can be the quarter back, I’ma run his quarter back Feds try to intercept a nigga like a corner back Make a n-gger pay a couple birds, get his daughter back Get the dirty money, clean it all up at the Laundromat [Rick Ross] 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 etcetera, etcetera [Meek Mill] I’m addicted to winning, pretty women and spinnin’ Ferragamo on linen, a nigga starting he finish D.A. label me menace, mama call me a king So therefore I’m dropping soon like Tyson was in the ring [Rick Ross] Coca-cola minx, Canary yellow stones I’ma 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 [Meek Mill] Doesn’t matter if it’s chess or checkers cause it’s all blocks (bricks) I’m in this 911 Porsche with a bald spot No roof, fresh off the car lot And we don’t call cops nigga, we just call shots [Rick Ross] F-ck the competition I bury the cockroaches Think 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 [Meek Mill] So if you nigga 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 nigga, tell the labels, get our bread up MMG, bitch, Maybach Music, we just do shit like this for no reason