| Title | : | Trap Queen |
| Album | : | Musicid.Wapka.Mobi |
| Artist | : | Fetty Wap |
| File Size | : | 4.73 MB |
| Duration | : | 00:04:08 |
| Audio Summary | : | Audio: mp3, 44100 Hz, stereo, s16p, 160 kb/s |
| Audio Bit Rate | : | 160000 |
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Lirik Lagu Fetty Wap - Trap Queen.
Remy boys, yeah
Seventy thirty eight
I'm like hey, what's up, hello
Seen you 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 the remixing 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, 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)
Ii be in the kitchen cooking pies 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)
Ii be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeah
I hit the strip with my trap queen cause all we know is bands
I just might snatch a Ferrari and buy my boo a lamb
I might just snatch her necklace, drop a couple on a ring
She ain't want it for nothing because I got her everything
Bitch you up in the bando, without deniro can't go
Remi boys got extendo, count up hella bands tho
How far can you Benz go
Fetty Wap I'm living fifty thousand K how should tho
If you checking out my pockets hold up
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
Ill be in the kitchen cooking pies 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)
Ii be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeah
I'm like hey, what's up, hello
Seen you 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 the remixing 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, 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 for show
I'll run in ya house, then I'll f*ck your ho
Cause Remy Boyz or nothing, Re-Remy Boyz or nothing
Yeah, you hear my boy sounding like a zillion bucks on a track
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