Trap Queen

Fetty Wap

"Trap Queen" by Fetty Wap

Album: 

Lyrics: 

Remy Boyz, yeaahhhh
1738
I'm like "hey, what's up, hello"
Seen yo pretty ass soon as you came in that door I just wanna chill, got a sack for us to roll
Married to the money, introduced her to my stove
Showed her how to whip it, now she remixin' for low

She my trap queen, let her hit the bando
We be countin' up, watch how far them bands go
We just set a goal, talkin' matchin' Lambos
Got 50, 60 grand, 500 grams though Man, I swear I love her how she work the damn pole
Hit the strip club, we be letting bands go
Everybody hating, we just call them fans though
In love with the money, I ain't never letting go

And I get high with my baby
I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cookin' pies with my baby

And I can ride with my baby
I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby, yeaaahhh
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cookin' pies with my baby

I hit the strip with my trap queen cause all we know is bands
I just might snatch up a 'Rari and buy my boo a Lamb'
I might just snatch her a necklace, drop a couple on a ring
She ain't wantin' for nothin' because I got her everything
It's big Zoo Wap from the bando, without dinero can't go
Remy boys got the stamp, though
Count up hella, them bands though
How far can your bands go?
Fetty Wap I'm living fifty thousand K how I stand though
If you checkin' for my pockets I'm like

And I get high with my baby
I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cookin' pies with my baby

And I can ride with my baby
I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby, yeaaahhh
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cookin' pies with my baby

I'm like "hey, what's up, hello"
Seen yo pretty ass soon as you came in that door
I just wanna chill, got a sack for us to roll
Married to the money, introduced her to my stove
Showed her how to whip it, now she remixin' for low

She my trap queen, let her hit the bando
We be countin' up, watch how far them bands go
We just set a goal, talkin' matchin' Lambos
Got 50, 60 grand, 500 grams though

Man, I swear I love her how she work the damn pole
Hit the strip club, we be letting bands go
Everybody hating, we just call them fans though
In love with the money, I ain't never letting go
I be smoking dope and you know Backwoods what I roll
Remy Boy, Fetty eating sh*t up that's fasho
I'll run in ya house, then I'll f*ck your ho
Cause Remy Boyz or nothin', Re-Re-Remy Boyz or nothin'


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