Trap Queen Lyrics - Fetty Wap - Fetty Wap

Remy Boyz, yeaahhhh 

1738 

I'm like "Hey, what's up? 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 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 

At 56 a gram, 5 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 lettin' go 

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And I get high with my baby 

I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby, yeah 

And I can ride with my baby 

I be in the kitchen cookin' pies with my baby, yeah 

And I can ride with my baby 

I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby, yeah 

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 ZooWap 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 livin' fifty thousand 

K how I stand though, if you checkin' for my pockets I'm like 

Photos 

And I get high with my baby 

I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby, yeah 

And I can ride with my baby 

I be in the kitchen cookin' pies with my baby, yeah 

And I can ride with my baby 

I just left the mall, I'm gettin' fly with my baby, yeah 

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 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 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 

At 56 a gram, 5 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 lettin' go 

I be smokin' dope and you know Backwoods what I roll 

Remy Boyz, Fetty eating shit up that's fasho 

I'll run in ya house, then I'll fuck your ho 

Cause Remy Boyz or nothin', Re-Re-Remy Boyz or nothin' 

(She my trap queen) 

Yeah, you hear my boy 

(She my trap queen) 

Soundin' like a zillion bucks on the track 

(She my trap queen) 

I got whatever on my boy, whatever 

(And I get high with my baby) 

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, RGF Productions 

(ZooWap)