Song Title: Trap Queen
Artist: Fetty Wap
Remy Boyz, yah!!
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 56 a gram, prob’ a 100 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 baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pots with my baby, yeah
And I get high with my baby baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pots with my baby, yeah
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 56 a gram, prob’ a 100 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 shit up that’s fasho
I’ll run in ya house, then I’ll fuck your ho
‘Cause Remy Boyz or nothing, Re-Re-Remy Boyz or nothing
And I get high with my baby baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pots with my baby, yeah
And I get high with my baby baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pots..
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 56 a gram, prob’ a 100 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 shit up that’s fasho
I’ll run in ya house, then I’ll fuck your ho
‘Cause Remy Boyz or nothing, Re-Re-Remy Boyz or nothing
Yeah, you hear my boy
Sounding like a zillion bucks on a track huh?
I got whatever on my boy, whatever
Put your money where your mouth is
Money on the wood make the game go good
Money outta side cause fights huh?
Put up a shatter
Uh, Nittdagrit
RGF productions
S-quad
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