Back to Top

Mustard - Perfect Ten Album Lyrics



Mustard - Perfect Ten Lyrics






Intro (Perfect Ten)

[ Featuring 1TakeJay ]

Wait hold up, I'm finna turn this bitch up
(Mustard on the beat hoe)

Ridin' through the city, where it's litty
Countin' hunnids, countin' fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ri-ri-ridin' through the city, where it's litty
Countin' hunnids, countin' fifties
I like bitches with big titties

I'm finna shoot a porn flick, bitch come get your cameo
She got a baby-daddy and a kid, but she ain't tell me though
She runnin' from the D, Oh My God, she's a scary hoe
I kill pussy, I hope she got insurance for the burial
Wait hold up, how you even know me? "Oh I heard you on the radio"
My pockets on fatboy, shoutout to Lil Terrio
The hardest nigga always singing louder than the stereo
Commit a crime, then starting pointing fingers, like "There he go"
I be fresh to death, fly as hell when I walk through
Why niggas hatin' on me, that I ain't never even talked too?
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, nigga, who are you?
Oh, you still mad from high school, 'cause the coach didn't start you?
I take my hoes too Toys'R'Us
Why? 'Cause they childish
You gon' find a better nigga? Baby I highly doubt it
Just like a old-ass whip, these hoes got high mileage
Stop gossipin', bitch you still live' in public housing
Boy bye, she only f*ck with niggas with the blue-check
I ain't f*ckin' with her, even though I got the blue-check
On Instagram, and my bank account, big blue check
I'm a cold nigga, when I come around, she made the crewneck
Knockin' 'em down like dominoes, I'm freaky, yeah, who next?
Even though our convos be dry, I got you wet
I gave her good D, now she braggin' in a groupchat
Now she always poppin' up, like a new text
I got a mic, come sing, you can be my Whitney Houston
I 'ont want a lot, but just like Nike, I'm tryna' do it
Your secrets safe with me, 'cause I don't care 'bout who you screwing
The people say I'm famous, really I be really coolin'
I'm a fool, but that jewelry look fake, who you foolin'?
The niggas that be flexin' on the 'Gram, be really losin'
Hey tough guy, don't play with guns, if you ain't really shootin'
Stop playin', them niggas in LA be really true

Ridin' through the city, where it's litty
Countin' hunnids, countin' fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ri-ri-ridin' through the city, where it's litty
Countin' hunnids, countin' fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ridin' through the city, where it's litty
Countin' hunnids, countin' fifties
I like bitches with big titties
Ri-ri-ridin' through the city, where it's litty
Countin' hunnids, countin' fifties
I like bitches with big titties
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Carl Martin, Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Ermias Asghedom, Jachin Jenkins, Leslie Wakefield
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid, Royalty Network, Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




Pure Water

[ Featuring Migos ]

Woo
Y'all already know who I am? Right?
(Mustard on the beat, ho)
Let's go

Uh (woo, woo), no Master P (ayy)
Ten bad bitches and they after me (bad)
One bad bitch look like a masterpiece (uh)
Lookin' for a dunk, like a athlete (uh)
Big drip, what you call it? (Big drip, yeah)
Ice chain, pure water (ice, ice, ice)
You got the cash, but can't afford 'em (cash, no)
You got the bag, but can't afford 'em (give me the bag)

Give me the beat, I ride it like a jetski (hey)
So many bad bitches they harassin' me (bad)
They like me 'cause I rap and be with the athletes (athletes)
Stop askin' me (uh), I know they mad at me (nah)
Hop in the coupe, then I slide like it's Vaseline (skrrt, skrrt)
West coast 6-4 jump like a trampoline (6-4)
Take a brick out, put it on a triple beam (brick out)
I'm not from Canada, but I see a lot of tings (Canada)
Dismantle her, I know how to handle her (woo, hey)
Light the candle up, make you put a banner up (up, up)
Toss a 50 up, make 'em tear the club up (tear the club up)
Took your bitch out the game, I had to sub her (swap, swap, here we go)

Uh (woo, woo), no Master P (ayy)
Ten bad bitches and they after me (bad)
One bad bitch look like a masterpiece (uh)
Lookin' for a dunk, like a athlete (uh, woo)
Big drip, what you call it? (Big drip, big drip, yeah)
Ice chain, pure water (ice, ice, ice)
You got the cash, but can't afford 'em (hey, cash)
You got the bag but can't afford 'em (woo, woo, woo)

Offset
Pimpin' ain't easy, make her open up and eat it (eat it)
Stars in the ceilin' and my seats, they Tempur-Pedic (hey, hey)
I see them niggas watchin' and they plottin', tryna sneak me (plot)
I can't hit a thot, can't trust a thot, they tellin' secrets (thot, no)
Big bank take lil' bank, lil' nigga (cash)
Catch him down bad, that nigga cry a whole river (hey)
Nawf on my back, I'm takin' care of the whole village (Nawf)
Somebody got shot, what you talkin' 'bout, Willis? (Who?)
In the lobby with a brick, I'm Ricky Bobby with your bitch
I go Lawrence with the fit, in the 'Rari with no tint ('Rari, drip, drip)
I'm from the trench, I got the dirty money rinsed (oh)
You was poppin' so I popped and prayed to God, repent (oh, oh, oh, let's go)

Uh (woo, woo), no Master P (ayy)
Ten bad bitches and they after me (bad)
One bad bitch look like a masterpiece (uh)
Lookin' for a dunk, like a athlete (uh, woo)
Big drip, what you call it? (Big drip, yeah)
Ice chain, pure water (ice, ice, ice)
You got the cash, but can't afford 'em (cash, no)
You got the bag but can't afford 'em

T-takeoff, no limit to the money (money, nah)
I picked the gang up, took a flight across the country ('cross the country, where?)
I tipped the waitress, told her, "Keep the ones comin'"
Hit the store to get some Backwoods and left the Wraith runnin', f*ck it
Lookin' like they plottin', but we already on it (on it)
In the lab with Celine like that bag that she wanted (Celine)
A lot of tings, ass bustin' out them jeans, make you want it (ting)
Make you wanna spend a 50, hit the scene with her, don't it? (Scene)
Whole team full of queens, gotta keep their eyes on me (queen)
It's a snake in disguise, probably wanna slide on me (slide)
I bet they ride on 'em when I put that prize on 'em (prize)
Ten bad bitches, bro Quavo got five of 'em (five)

Uh (woo, woo), no Master P (ayy)
Ten bad bitches and they after me (bad)
One bad bitch look like a masterpiece (uh)
Lookin' for a dunk, like a athlete (uh)
Big drip, what you call it? (Big drip, yeah)
Ice chain, pure water (ice, ice, ice)
You got the cash, but can't afford 'em (cash, no)
You got the bag but can't afford 'em

Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Two-step (oh, yeah, uh, oh, yeah)
Goodnight
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Kiari Cephus, Kirsnick Khari Ball, Quavious Marshall, Shah Rukh Zaman, Ermias Asghedom
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc.




On GOD

[ Featuring YG, Tyga, ASAP Ferg, ASAP Rocky ]

(Mustard on the beat, ho) here we go let's go

On God, your diamonds don't dance like this (yeah)
You ain't got no soldiers takin' no chance like this
On God, no ain't nobody triller than this
Go anywhere around the world, nobody realer than this
On God, I be nappin' in the Hamptons
I just got a architect to build a big ass mansion, uh
On God, now I'm ready for expansion
And my old bitch left me but I swear I'm so handsome

On God, I got in with the 9 millimeter
On God, I'm in the red Lamborghini, a two-seater
On God, I'm at hard-bottom seats ain't sneakers (facts)
I need a bad bitch, half ho, half diva
On God, it ain't ever been no bitch in me
I'm aggressive with these hoes
Ain't no soft shit in me
Niggas know it's three-nine-seven plus three
At the top, who you see, shit
Me, me, and me
She wanna kick it after we f*ck, I don't do Kung-Fu
If your friend'd bust down, that mean you one too
If your friend bust down, that mean you one too
If I whip the dick out, bitch, what you gon' do?
I'm in the red coupe
I call it suu-woos
I got voices in my head like, "Suu-woo, suu-woo"
Don't believe the hype, these nigga lie in the booth
I'm a good-lookin' rapper, I ain't lyin' to you

On God, your diamonds don't dance like this
You ain't got no soldiers takin' no chance like this
On God, no ain't nobody triller than this
Go anywhere around the world, nobody realer than this
On God, I be nappin' in the Hamptons
I just got a architect to build a big ass mansion
On God, now I'm ready for expansion
And my old bitch left me but I swear I'm so handsome

Life's a beach, hittin' licks like a lease (oh)
Gettin' licked like your teeth (whoa)
Runnin' shit like the cleats, on your feet
Little bit, Little bitch want the threesome
Run a threesome, then I'ma stab, no repeat
On G-O-D they on my B-O-D
I'm with the AOD, it's a G-O, here we go
I'm G double O-D, good, I'm a OG
Three, triple OG, hold it down, P-O-P (here we go let's go)
I can't stand a ho with no rhythm
I can't tell if the ass factual or fiction
I can't really tell if she twerkin' or twitchin'
How many of you hoes out there really Christians?
On God, have the fella pass the petition
Shorty learn to clean house like she pack for eviction
Learnin' for a class, or a cast, or audition
Change the forecast, throw the cash on a bitch

On God, your diamonds don't dance like this (whoa)
You ain't got no soldiers takin' no chance like this
On God, no ain't nobody triller than this (wassup?)
Go anywhere around the world, nobody realer than this
On God, I be nappin' in the Hamptons
I just got a architect to build a big ass mansion
On God, now I'm ready for expansion
And my old bitch left me but I swear I'm so handsome

Big mansion, chicks dancin', uh
Prayed for it, and the shit happened, uh
Left Prada with ten jackets, uh
Bed solid and I'm mismatchin', uh
Sick and tired of the chit-chattin', uh
I been ballin', this is just practice, uh
Blow twenty, sorry Ms. Jackson, uh
Went West and I went platinum, on God
I'm back with my bro YG
To put you niggas in the pit, like deodorant be
I done came everything I was chosen to be
How I'm at the dinner party with Hova and B
'Cause I'm bustin' door-to-door like Jehovah with thieves
And now my whole family be rolling with me
Made my mom my accountant
Little brother got talent
And my Uncle T-vert handle security

On God, your diamonds don't dance like this
You ain't got no soldiers takin' no chance like this
On God, no ain't nobody triller than this
Go anywhere around the world, nobody realer than this
On God, I be nappin' in the Hamptons
I just got a architect to build a big ass mansion
On God, now I'm ready for expansion
And my old bitch left me but I swear I'm so handsome (T-raw)

Pray for me, niggas love and hate me, bunch of Judas'
All this money make you evil, I won't give in to it (no)
Imitate my lifestyle but they ain't been through it
Think you know my plays, re-route 'em, Cam Newton
Factory Patek, blood, sweat, tears, yes
Buy your mom a house, then we could talk then
I got four payroll, I'm the big man
Ten toes, never fold, stick to the plan
New mansion, gotta keep advancing
Outlandish, Maybach when I land it
Black bandit, run up in here, no manners
Gotta keep up with the pace like Indiana's
Leave 'em white in the face like the masked phantom
I'ma f*ck her all night, 'til she can't stand up
Got the Bugatti and ran like the Devil dancin'
And he keep tryna call, I won't answer

On God, your diamonds don't dance like this
You ain't got no soldiers takin' no chance like this
On God, no ain't nobody triller than this
Go anywhere around the world, nobody realer than this
On God, I be nappin' in the Hamptons
I just got a architect to build a big ass mansion
On God, now I'm ready for expansion
And my old bitch left me but I swear I'm so handsome
On God (Jesus)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Darold Durard Brown, Dijon Isaiah Mcfarlane, Earlly Mac, Ermias Joseph Asghedom, Keenon Daquan Ray Jackson, Michael Stevenson, Rakim Mayers, Shahrukh Zaman Khan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Baguettes in the Face


Mustard on the beat, ho

[NAV]
I make shit look easy, but they don't know what it take (Take)
Don't ask me the time, I got baguettes in the face (Bling)
Virgil dropped some Louis, I want everything he made (Made)
When it come to hoes, I never be the one to save
Keep on throwing ones, these bitches keep on showing ass
Bitches on my body and I'm just tryna relax
They always come off cool but in the end they come out wack (Wack)
Her boyfriend getting mad, I told her he could take you back

Have you ever been with a boss?
I know your boyfriend took you shopping at Ross
I'm always dripping, I leave puddles when I walk (Drip)
If she don't know how to dress, I don't wanna talk (No cap)
But I might still get some top
I don't need a belt, my pockets full of knots
Number one, there's finally real ones at the top (At the top)
I'm with Mustard and we talking Lambo' talk (Skrrt, skrrt)

I make shit look easy but they don't know what it take (Take)
Don't ask me the time, I got baguettes in the face (Bling)
Virgil dropped some Louis, I want everything he made (Made)
When it come to hoes, I never be the one to save
Keep on throwing ones, these bitches keep on showing ass
Bitches on my body and I'm just tryna relax
They always come off cool but in the end they come out wack (Wack)
Her boyfriend getting mad, I told her he could take you back

[Playboi Carti]
I just pulled up, I got some new shit (I just)
I just pulled up, I got a new bitch (Carti, yeah)
My bitch, she bad, I bought her bracelet
Iced up X on my necklace (On my neck)
I pull up and slatt shit (Slatt, slatt)
I pull up and break shit (I just pull up on 'em)
I just told my mom thank God I made it (I just told my mom)
We got money over here, we starting to pay, bitch (Starting to pay)
I got old school, yeah, in the backyard (Back)
In the black car (Uh), I'm a black boy (Yeah)
What's your net, boy? Huh
Check this neck, boy (Slatt)
Got these black diamonds (Yeah)
On baguettes, boy

[NAV]
I make shit look easy but they don't know what it take (Take)
Don't ask me the time, I got baguettes in the face (Bling)
Virgil dropped some Louis, I want everything he made (Made)
When it come to hoes, I never be the one to save
Keep on throwing ones, these bitches keep on showing ass
Bitches on my body and I'm just tryna relax
They always come off cool but in the end they come out wack (Wack)
Her boyfriend getting mad, I told her he could take you back

[A Boogie wit da Hoodie]
Huh, me and your bitch up in the Phantom
If you want her back, you better man up
I know you just don't understand her
She just want you to help her get her bands up
Oh, nah, nah, nah, ayy
Just ride my wave like a tsunami
I came from the jungle, from a safari
I don't want no Nicki, I want a ménage à
Don't give me no hickies, baby, give me sloppy
I already seen you naked, girl, I know your body
You like f*cking with the lights off, on some shy shit
You gon' end up being famous if you talk about it

[NAV]
I make shit look easy but they don't know what it take (Take)
Don't ask me the time, I got baguettes in the face (Bling)
Virgil dropped some Louis, I want everything he made (Made)
When it come to hoes, I never be the one to save
Keep on throwing ones, these bitches keep on showing ass
Bitches on my body and I'm just tryna relax
They always come off cool but in the end they come out wack (Wack)
Her boyfriend getting mad, I told her he could take you back
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ADAM PAUL TINLEY
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC




Interstate 10

[ Featuring Future ]

Bitch, she breaking a nigga heart
Yeah
The person they want a nigga to be (how that shit go)
This shit breaking my heart (the game)
Shit you never see (10 Summers)
Mustard on the beat, ho

Yeah, skinny jeans on me with extendo
Hanging with them young niggas, flocking, pullin' kick doors
Yeah, we was hanging at the bando
Fully loaded clip, went and snatched up a Benzo
Flew them Dracos out to LA on a PJ
And we taking off no delay
No delay, we taking up the murder rate
Everything from chinchos to parquet

Audemar baguette, have it tinted, better relay
Money coming through, blue hundreds on impact
Married to the game, caught new pinkstones
No new friends, copped five new phones
Extend money, need to be the right one
Double up my cup, ooh-ooh pop one
Copped new drops, upper echelon
Hustler's dream to live lavish
In the middle of the night, go to Saturn
Two toned Patek, go spazzin'
Ten brand new whips in traffic
No evidence, no lacking
Bentley routine, go re-up
Fully loaded magazine when you see us
It's a full time job tryna stay on point
Glock four-zero, hollow points

Yeah, skinny jeans on me with extendo
Hanging with them young niggas, flocking, pullin' kick doors
Yeah, we was hanging at the bando
Fully loaded clip, went and snatched up a Benzo
Flew them Dracos out to LA on a PJ
And we taking off no delay
No delay, we taking up the murder rate
Everything from chinchos to parquet

Game chose me, ain't choose this
Empty out the clip before you lose this
If your city on your back and your shoulder
You gotta rally, you gotta spray like a soldier
Vultures, they come with the territory
V12, your motor is mandatory
Whipping the soda, be cool, do the speed
Make it on Interstate 10 and achieve
This is not regular town, you gon' bleed
Came from the game, ain't no trust, pushing keys
From the cook up to the tour bus
You see how far our ambition took us
We bring all the hood niggas with us
The non-believers, we made 'em believe us
From my block to your block, they love homicide
Looking like a foreign dealership outside

Yeah, skinny jeans on me with extendo
Hanging with them young niggas, flocking, pullin' kick doors
Yeah, we was hanging at the bando
Fully loaded clip, went and snatched up a Benzo
Flew them Dracos out to LA on a PJ
And we taking off no delay
No delay, we taking up the murder rate
Everything from chinchos to parquet

Interstate 10
We risked it all to get it in
And we would risk it again
It's breaking my heart, this currency
Knowing it's breaking me heart
It's tearing me up, what you're doing to me
It's tearing me apart
This greed and this envy, don't know where to go
Don't know where to start
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Nayvadius Wilburn, Shahrukh Z Khan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Peermusic Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.




100 Bands

[ Featuring Quavo, YG, Meek Mill, 21 Savage ]

Whoop, woo
You already know who I am right?
Mustard on the beat, hoe
Let's go

Hunnid bands (oh, woo), hunnid bands (oh, woo)
Hunnid bands (oh), hunnid bands (oh, hunnid bands)
Ten bands (oh, ten bands) in the right hand (oh, right)
Ten bands (oh, hey) in my left hand (oh, let's go, yeah)

Make her best friend (woo) be her hype man (hype man)
You keep going big (woo) she wanna fight, damn (going big)
Bad bitches in my city catching flights, damn (bad)
Popping big bands when they hit the lights, damn (cash)
I pull down on your city, in your city, they f*ck with me (city)
And these bitches f*cking with me 'cause I represent my city (f*ck with me)
Kitchen dishin', you can witness all this cash that we gettin' (whoop)
If you started, we gon' finish, whole gang with the bidness (here we go, bidness, bow)

Hunnid bands (oh, woo), hunnid bands (oh, woo)
Hunnid bands (oh), hunnid bands (oh, hunnid bands)
Ten bands (oh, ten bands) in the right hand (oh, right)
Ten bands (oh, hey) in my left hand (oh, here we go)

What's a hunnid racks? I throw it real quick (straight up)
Thought it was a limp, this way this stripper do a split (split)
1-9-4-2, get the bad bitches lit (on God)
New Chanel purse, every time she throw a fit (straight up)
Drop it to the floor, make your knees touch your toes (21)
I'm on group FaceTime, me and all my hoes (on God)
You can send me nudes, on my mom I won't expose (straight up)
Have back sweet, I'ma pass her to my bros (sweet)
Fake kick, I'ma let my brother catch the two point
Bitches like singles, Savage always got a new joint
Thought he was a gangster, but he snitching yeah, oink-oink
Work too hard bitch, you can't get a coin, coin (21)

Hunnid bands (woo, 21), hunnid bands (woo, 21)
Hunnid bands, hunnid bands (straight up, hunnid bands)
Ten bands (straight up, ten bands) in the right hand (right, 4Hunnid)
Ten bands (hey) in my left hand (on God)

Santa Claus bag, hoe sit up on you (hoe sit)
Suge Knight bag, had the shooters get up on you (flip)
You see the red Lamborghini as I hit the corner (as I hit the corner)
YG got his shit together, he a business owner (oh, oh)
Popping tags, shopping bags, nigga I gotta brag (gotta brag)
The YSL don't fit, I ain't take it back (f*ck that shit)
Ella Mai trippin', we do a lot of that (a lot of that)
But it ain't ever 'bout a bitch, we trip to cobble Jack (skrrt)
Ayy, big bands on me, drumline (big bands)
I just let the money talk, don't need no punchline
I like the sunshine so I said, "F*ck the roof" (what is that?)
If you 'bout a bag, holla suu whoop (let's go!)

Hunnid bands (oh, woo), hunnid bands (oh, woo)
Hunnid bands (oh), hunnid bands (oh, hunnid bands)
Ten bands (oh, ten bands) in the right hand (oh, right)
Ten bands (oh, hey) in my left hand (oh, yeah, yeah)

More money (more money), more bitches (more bitches)
More milli's (more milli's), more riches (yeah)
Uno, does, tres, quatro, I got four bitches
And they squatting on that dick like they doin' fitness
Said he looking for me, came through in the drop top (skrrt)
Spent a corner in the dorm, while the opps watch (let's get it)
I'm too rich to go through somethin' about a thot, tho, huh
Feds grabbed you, you back home, oh, you a cop, cop, huh?
This shit serious (this shit serious)
Bad bitch gon' give me brain, she on her period (she on her period)
In the trenches of Dubai, they don't know where he is (where he at?)
Is that a bird, no that's a jet, yeah, there he is (gang)

Hunnid bands (oh, yeah), hunnid bands (oh, yeah)
Hunnid bands (oh, yeah), hunnid bands (oh, hunnid bands)
Ten bands (oh, let's get it) in the right hand (oh, right, woah)
Ten bands (woah, woah) in my left hand
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Quavious Keyate Marshall, Keenon Daquan Ray Jackson, Shayaa Bin Abraham Joseph, Robert Rihmeek Williams
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Woah Woah

[ Featuring Young Thug, Gunna ]

Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh
Woah, woah
Woah, woah
Oh, oh (yeah)
Oh, oh (yeah, Mustard on the beat ho)

Tony Montana, white diamonds on my wrist and neck
I was just controllin' the way y'all niggas was trollin'
Led her to my opps, stab you up, and now you bed head
I went doctor on that bitch, now she sexy
I put a new nug on her face and her chest, chest
I put a chain on a bitch, now her neck wet
You can call her pawn
Mermaid, her hair way too long
Yeah, I just take ecstasy and short' takin' Percocet, yeah
You was tryna f*ck' the bitch, and I was tryna get the neck (woo)
I was tryna keep it crucial with you on some project shit (ay)
You was tryna keep it boujee with her now you never hit
Yeah, this my anniversary, I had my chopper six years
Rose gold Vista (ay), got the temper red (ay), rare (ay, ay)
Blicky, blicky (ay), real, real, diamonds give me chills (ay)
Steve Harvey, Benz red, real silent kill (ay)

Dennis Rodman, diamonds all colors, woah, woah (ay)
Clyde Christien, all designer colors, woah, woah (woah)
I've been mad shoppin' in a Sprinter, woah, woah (woah)
When I get to f*ckin', I'ma bill her woah, woah (woah, woah)
I'ma put a ring on her toe, woah, woah (woah, woah)
Hopes and the dreams, what was soul, woah, woah (woah, woah)
Diamonds of Atlanta, I left 'em all, woah, woah (woah, woah)
I've been gettin' supported since the stove, woah, woah (ay)

Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh
Woah, woah
Woah, woah
Oh, oh
Oh, oh

Bad little nigga
Space coupe, panoramic glass in the middle
Jewelry box lookin' like a bag full of Skittles
Underdog, but that bag done got bigger
Under all the house, none of my cars are a rental
Room for her and her friends, I pay for all their incidentals
Hope you comprehend, I do my songs without a pencil
She wanna f*ck again, I look for time in my agenda
Iced out cash in my denim
And I'm strapped but I hit 'em
I can't be a victim, nah, I can't beat the system
And I always put it on, Gucci on my lil' ones
Know some niggas did me a wrong, I never forgive 'em
Me and my whole crew enormous,you niggas little
F&N and mini, carbons don't need a hitta
I stay how I smoke a 'gar, then weed in my liver
Young nigga, I beg your pardon, forever drippin'

(Ay) Dennis Rodman, diamonds all colors, woah, woah (ay)
Clyde Christien, all designer colors, woah, woah (woah)
I've been mad shoppin' in a Sprinter, woah, woah (woah)
When I get to f*ckin', I'ma bill her woah, woah (woah, woah)
I'ma put a ring on her toe, woah, woah (woah, woah)
Hopes and the dreams, what was soul, woah, woah (woah, woah)
Diamonds of Atlanta, I left 'em all, woah, woah (woah, woah)
I've been gettin' supported since the stove, woah, woah (ay)

Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh
Woah, woah
Woah, woah
Oh, oh
Oh, oh

Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh
Woah, woah
Woah, woah
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Jeffery Lamar Williams, Alexander Justus West, Quintin Ferbie Gulledge, Sergio Kitchens
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Peermusic Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Surface

(feat. Ella Mai & Ty Dolla $ign)

[Intro:]
Mustard on the Beat, ho

[Ella Mai:]
Chances, take them, don't make me the one that got away
Promises, don't break them, baby two can play that game
I need to show you some, show you some boy
So I can get to know you, get to know you boy
So let me show you some, show you some boy
I wanna get to know you

I know you got a list callin' your phone, whenever you're alone
But if it's really me you want, you gotta cut 'em off, yeah

If you get below, below, below, below the surface
I know you get below, below, below, below the surface
Yeah I'ma have you, runnin' around, losin' your mind, ooh yeah, ooh yeah
To get below, below, below, below the surface

[Ty Dolla $ign:]
Truth is, right now, you the only one I want, bae I'm focused (Woah)
Emotions, flowin' (No), girl you make it so hard to control it
Day and night, I swear you're (Ooh yeah), always on my mind
You said it, I'll never be nobody else's
And keep them bitches out my face, you so sexy

[Ella Mai:]
I know you got a list callin' your phone, whenever you're alone
But if it's really me you want, you gotta cut 'em off, yeah

[Ella Mai & Ty Dolla $ign:]
If you get below, below, below, below the surface (Surface)
I know you get below, below, below, below the surface
Girl you got me, runnin' around, losin' your mind, ooh yeah, ooh yeah
To get below, below, below, below the surface (Ooh yeah)

[Ella Mai:]
If you really wanna get my presence, all right
No sugarcoat, can't be low, I need all facts
'Cause baby you gotta know where my head's at
Oh before I show where my bed's at
Try, try, try, try, try
Don't want no lie, lie, lie, lie, lies
Put in the time, time, time, time, time
'Fore I ex you out for crossin' the line, yeah

I know you got a list callin' your phone, whenever you're alone
But if it's really me you want, you gotta cut 'em off, yeah

If you get below, below, below, below the surface
I know you get below, below, below, below the surface
Yeah I'ma have you, runnin' around, losin' your mind, ooh yeah, ooh yeah
To get below, below, below, below the surface

[Ella Mai & Ty Dolla $ign:]
If you get below, below, below, below the surface (Surface)
I know you get below, below, below, below the surface
Girl you got me, runnin' around, losin' your mind, ooh yeah, ooh yeah
To get below (To get below), below, below, below the surface (Ooh yeah)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Allan Wayne Felder, Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Ella Mai Howell, Ermias Joseph Asghedom, Kenneth Burke, Kenneth Gamble, Leon A. Huff, Nija Aisha Alayja Charles, Norma Jean Wright, Quintin Ferbie Gulledge, Shahrukh Zaman Khan, Tyrone William Griffin Jr.
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Peermusic Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Ballin

[ Featuring Roddy Ricch ]

I don't really want to go
I don't really wanna stay
But I really hope and pray
Can we get it together
Get it together
(Mustard on the beat, ho)

I put the new Forgi's on the Jeep
I trap until the bloody bottoms is underneath
'Cause all my niggas got it out the streets
I keep a hunnid racks inside my jeans
I remember hittin' the mall with the whole team
Now a nigga can't answer calls 'cause I'm ballin'
I was wakin' up, gettin' racks in the mornin'
I was broke now I'm rich, these niggas salty

All this designer on my body got me drip, drip (ayy)
Straight up out the Yajects, I'm a big Crip
If I got a pint of lean, I'ma sip, sip
I run the racks up with my queen, like London and Nip
But I got rich on all these niggas, I didn't forget, bet
I had to go through the struggle, I didn't forget that
I hopped inside of the Maybach and now I can sit back
These bitches know me now, 'cause I got them big racks
'Cause I'm gettin' money now, I know you heard that
Young nigga on the corner, bitch, I had to serve crack
Uncle fronted me some P's, had to get them birds back
We came up on dirty money, I gave it a bird bath
Cut off the brain and I give my bitch a new coupe
Either you frontin' Yah Gang or you're SuWoop
Got a New Orleans bitch and man that pussy voodoo
And I'm that nigga now, who knew?

I put the new Forgi's on the Jeep
I trap until the bloody bottoms is underneath
'Cause all my niggas got it out the streets
I keep a hunnid racks, inside my jeans
I remember hittin' the mall with the whole team
Now a nigga can't answer calls 'cause I'm ballin'
I was wakin' up gettin' racks in the mornin'
I was broke now I'm rich, these niggas salty

I been wakin' up to get the money, whoa, whoa
Got a bad bitch, her ass tatted, whoa, whoa
Givenchy to my toes, two twins, I'm f*ckin' 'em both
I put her in new AP, the water like a boat
I was down bad on my dick, where was you niggas at?
I know you turned your back on me, just to get some racks
I seen you swerve back, 'cause I'm in the black 'Bach
New diamonds on me, f*ck a flash, this ain't SnapChat
'Cause I been gettin' paid
Yellow diamonds on me look like lemonade
Got my baby mama that new Bentayga
Tryna get the dough, Joe, like a sensei, yeah
Rolls Royce umbrellas when I'm in the rain
I just mind my business
I got brothers that did the time, I ain't kiddin'
All these rappers just talk about it, I live it
Goin' up, I ain't got no sky limit, yeah, yeah, yeah

I put the new Forgi's on the Jeep
I trap until the bloody bottoms is underneath
'Cause all my niggas got it out the streets
I keep a hunnid racks inside my jeans
I remember hittin' the mall with the whole team
Now a nigga can't answer calls 'cause I'm ballin'
I was wakin' up gettin' racks in the mornin'
I was broke now I'm rich, these niggas salty

I, ayy, yeah
I've been ballin', lil' nigga
Now watch me ball on these niggas
Yeah, now watch me ball on these niggas, yeah
Now watch me ball on these niggas
Now watch me ball on these niggas, yeah, yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dijon Mcfarlane, Donell Jones, Rodrick Moore
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Peermusic Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Perfect Ten

[ Featuring Nipsey Hussle ]

Yeah
You don't know who swimmin' naked 'til the tide come in
Mustard on the beat, ho

F*ck where your hoes at
Or where your Rolls at
Where your backbone, nigga, where your code at?
Where your down since day one real bros at?
Where them stories that you tellin' unfold at?
Where your heart nigga, where your soul at?
We got old school ways, we expose that
Ain't no guarantees, but you know that
Niggas die every day, can't control that

Ken Griffey throwback
Nigga had to go left
Must've popped twenty-eight times, 'cause it's four left
If it's 'bout mine, ain't a nigga that I won't check
Run through your hardest homeboy, you could go next
85 Cut', dawg, Hussle had the Rolex
Chain on my white tee, now you see the progress
Stacked every chip on myself, time to collect
All money in, just imagine what I gross back

F*ck where your hoes at (what)
Or where your Rolls at
Where your backbone, nigga, where your code at?
Where your down since day one real bros at?
Where them stories that you tellin' unfold at?
Where your heart nigga, where your soul at?
We got old school ways, we expose that
Ain't no guarantees, but you know that
Niggas die every day, can't control that

That's why I call my thing The Marathon (yeah)
Because I, I'm not gon' lie and portray, um, this ultimate poise
Like I been, had it figured out
Nah, I just didn't quit
That's the only distinguishing quality from me and probably whoever else goin' through this
Or went through this, or is gonna go through this
Is that I ain't quit
I went through every emotion
I went through every emotion with tryna pursue what I'm doing
You know what I mean? (mhm)
And I think that what, what, separate whoever's gon' try to go for something is that
You ain't gon' quit
That's, you know, you really gon' take the stance
If I'm gon' die behind what what I'm gettin' at right here

F*ck where your hoes at (what)
Or where your Rolls at
Where your backbone, nigga, where your code at?
Where your down since day one real bros at?
Where them stories that you tellin' unfold at?
Where your heart nigga, where your soul at?
We got old school ways, we expose that
Ain't no guarantees, but you know that
Niggas die every day, can't control that

I think that our reaction to being disrespected
We gotta, we gotta, we have to reassess how we react
You know what I mean?
I think that, we've been known, as, as hip hop, to make songs
And that's a part of it
And then, we gotta, we gotta go a step further because I think that
It's like a disease in your body
Once you start givin' it a treatment it'll get immune to the treatment (mhm)
And you gotta try something else to kill that disease
I think protest music is important
I think that YG was a genius

F*ck where your hoes at
Or where your Rolls at
Where your backbone, nigga, where your code at?
Where your down since day one real bros at?
Where them stories that you tellin' unfold at?
Where your heart nigga, where your soul at?
We got old school ways, we expose that
Ain't no guarantees, but you know that
Niggas die every day, can't control that
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dijon Isaiah McFarlane, Ermias Asghedom, Alexander Justus West, Quintin Ferbie Gulledge, Shahrukh Zaman Khan
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Peermusic Publishing




Back to: Mustard


Perfect Ten is the third studio album by American record producer Mustard, released on June 28, 2019, by 10 Summers Records and Interscope Records. It includes the singles "Pure Water", "100 Bands", and "Ballin'", which were Mustard's only hit songs as a solo act. In December 2019, the album was certified gold by the RIAA for over 500,000 album-equivalent units.

It features collaborations from 1TakeJay, Migos, Quavo as a solo artist, YG, Tyga, ASAP Ferg, ASAP Rocky, Nav, Playboi Carti, A Boogie wit da Hoodie, Future, Young Thug, Gunna, Ty Dolla Sign, Ella Mai, Roddy Ricch, and the late Nipsey Hussle.
Performed By: Mustard
Genre(s): Hip hop
Producer(s): 1500 or Nothin', Gylttryp, Justus West, Khaliel, Larry Jayy, Geronimo, Mustard, Official, Quintin Gulledge, Ryan Brown
Length: 32:10
Released: June 28th, 2019
Year: 2019

Tags:
No tags yet