Stay Down - 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

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