Stay Down

Lyrics

[Intro: Quilly] 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 [Verse 1: Quilly] 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 [Chorus: Quilly] (2x) 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 [Verse 2: Quilly] 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