Top Lookin Down
[Verse 1: Yo Gotti]
I leave nothing on the table, I’m a greedy a nigga
Shout my young bull word to my Philly niggas
My new young b**ch said she been f**king ball players
You see me ’round some niggas know they all real
Club lit, club lit
Stevie J bring the record back
Kids Ttipping this dope (Trip)
Where the f**k my banger At
Stevie J dropped OOUU OOUU
Why the f**k he ain’t think of that
Niggas thinkin’ we cool, naw nigga ain’t none of that
Yeah, 50 bars tell him run it back
Real nigga in real life, you a real nigga on the internet
Real problems, had real issues in the real streets on real crack
Fake niggas having fake issues, all you hatin’ niggas put a end to that
Nothing but killers in my session, this sh*t Deathrow
Bought a Rollie on my extras, left tho
I be getting to the money ain’t no plan B
I be goin’ so hard they try to ban me
Aye, look your MCM all in my section tryna take a selfie
I won’t give that pussy back they say I’m acting selfish
I made 20 million dollars ain’t sh*t you can tell me
Gave my life to the streets, I hope that sh*t don’t fail me
A million dollar smell like some new cologne
That b**ch ain’t bad if she ain’t did it on her own
Patek Philipe and I can’t even set the date
Buyin’ time but I’m still runnin’ late
[Pre-Chorus: Yo Gotti]
I got all the chains on like a field nigga
I’m standing on these couches with my lil’ niggas
I don’t want no rap now, I don’t feel niggas
This is ain’t for no b**ches, this for real niggas
[Chorus: Meek Mill & Yo Gotti]
Real niggas at the top
Fake niggas at the bottom
And if you bring them pussy niggas up with you
Better leave ’em where you got ’em
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
Real niggas at the top
Fake niggas at the bottom
And if you bring them pussy niggas up with you
Better leave ’em where you got ’em
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
[Verse 2: Meek Mill]
Yeah, came through for the payback
Pulled up in a Maybach
Bought the dawgs [??] wraith back
Wrist rocky like A$AP
Bought the b**ch a li’ Birkin bag
That’s my paper, let her taste that
Plain jane, that’s thirty cash, all bust down we ain’t playin’ that
Nigga we lit, I’m in MIA
Thats your b**ch, knock her down she in my way (yea yeah)
Take a pic, she gon’ post it on her page (oh lord)
That’s your b**ch, tell your ho to close her legs (oh boy)
Count that paper with my eyes closed
Caught me with that b**ch and she went viral
Threw that pussy at me like a spiral
Caught it like Odell Beckham young rich nigga they can’t check I’m on one
[Extended Pre-Chorus: Yo Gotti & Meek Mill]
Aye, we don’t want them b**ches they some gold diggers (b**ch)
We don’t do plain jane this sh*t for old niggas (bust down, bust down)
We bust down that Rollie just to show niggas (ha)
We bust down that Rollie, we don’t owe niggas (no)
I got all the chains on like a field nigga
I’m standing on these couches with my lil’ niggas
I don’t want no rap now, I don’t feel niggas
This is ain’t for no b**ches, this for real niggas
[Chorus: Meek Mill & Yo Gotti]
Real niggas at the top
Fake niggas at the bottom
And if you bring them pussy niggas up with you
Better leave ’em where you got ’em
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
Real niggas at the top
Fake niggas at the bottom
And if you bring them pussy niggas up with you
Better leave ’em where you got ’em
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
Top lookin’ down, Top lookin’ down
