Trap Queen
by Fetty Wap

I'm like hey, wassup, hello
Seen yo pretty ass soon as you came in the 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 remix it for low
She my trap queen let her hit the bando
We be counting up watch how far them bands go
We just set a goal, talking matching lambos
Got 56 a gram, 5 a hundred grams though
Man I swear I love her how she work that 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 getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeahh

And I can ride with my baby
I just left the mall I'm getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies
I'm like, "Hey, what's up? Hello"

I hit the strip with my trap queen
'Cause all we know is bands
I might just 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 BigZooWap from the bando
Remind me where I can't go
Remy Boyz got the stamp though
Count up hella them bands though
Boy how far can your bands go?
Fetty Wap I'm living fifty thousand
K how I stand tho
If you checking for my pockets I'm like

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

And I can ride with my baby
I just left the mall I'm getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies

I'm like hey, wassup, hello
Seen yo pretty ass soon as you came in the 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 remix it for low
She my trap queen let her hit the bando
We be counting up watch how far them bands go
We just set a goal, talking matching lambos
Got 56 a gram, 5 a hundred grams though
Man I swear I love her how she work that 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 shit up that's fasho
I'll run in ya house, then I'll fuck ya ho
'Cause Remy boyz or nothin', Re-Re-Remy Boyz or nothin'

Yeah, you hear my boy
Soundin' like a zillion bucks on the track
I got whatever on my boy, whatever
Put your money where your mouth is
Money on the wood make the game go good
Money out of sight 'cause fights
Put up or shut up, huh?
Nitt Da Gritt, huh, RGF Productions
Squad

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, BMG Rights Management
Written by: Willie Maxwell, Anton Matsulevich

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind