Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Stay Down , by - QuillyRelease date: 20.02.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Stay Down |
| In this game, nigga, it ain’t what you know |
| It’s who you know. |
| Ha, I know the line |
| I’ve been through more shit than a lil bit |
| Gotta stay down, gotta make it to the top |
| Hatin' ass cracker wanna put me in a box |
| Bail money to the side, you gon' make me call «Shak» |
| Quilly been hot, bitch, give me my props |
| I don’t want much, but I really wanna a lot |
| I don’t wanna fuck, I just wanna lil top |
| Man, these hoes can’t fit in that drop |
| All this coke can’t fit in this pot |
| Was a «Pacman», graduated to a dot |
| Haines Street, I grew up wit the «Have-nots» |
| Pullin' all nighters just so I can have knots |
| Made 10 grand sittin' on the back block |
| 33 shots in this lil ass Glock, internet thug, MAC on me; |
| laptop |
| Fuck a drive by, walk down on you; |
| 2 shots, Q-Pac |
| Fuck these new rappers, I’m the new hot |
| All eyes on me, feelin' like I’m 2Pac |
| Bricksquad, I’ma lose weigh; |
| GuWop |
| Got the dope fiends shootin' up flu shots |
| 12 rounds on me, I don’t care if you box |
| Coke, new edition; |
| I’m sellin' that Bobby |
| I got that Whitney right there in that alley |
| You in your feelings, in love wit a Thottie |
| I make her wax on, wax off; |
| Mr. Miyagi |
| Can’t come to my house we can’t kick it; |
| Karate |
| I’m sellin' Percs and I work out; |
| Pilates |
| I make her fuck me and slurp me; |
| Gellati |
| I make her get my backwood from the Papis |
| I get my baggage right from the «Ahki's» |
| I remember when I used to where Tommy |
| I remember bitches used to walk by me |
| Now, all of my bitches are bad as Taraji |
| Stay down till' you come up |
| Never ever put my gun up |
| Never ever let em get 1 up |
| If he run up, he get done up |
| All nighters till' the sun up |
| I’m just tryna get a come up |
| Stay down till' the sun up |
| Stay down till' I come up |
| I just want the fly things, Tom Brady; |
| 5 rings |
| Don’t worry bout who I’m fuckin' |
| Don’t worry about what I sling |
| Got white like Jim Carey, nigga, Me, Myself & Irene |
| Pack, New Edition; |
| Bobby Brown, hater, let me do my thing |
| My car fast, my drinks slow, I go hard, my bitch know |
| High as hell, I’m on the moon, ET my finger, my wrist glow |
| Don’t let em gas you like Citgo, drop coke to the oils like Crisco |
| Haines Street Hustler, my strip know |
| I got the chip on me; |
| Talabisco |
| White the work like Toby nigga, that’s dead weight |
| All these flows runnin' through my mind, gotta headache |
| Bang bangin' like Bam-Bam till' the bed break |
| Smokin' fruity pebbles, sellin' Flintstones, syrup; |
| pancakes |