Lyrics Stay Down - Quilly

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