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trap queen (mixed) - fetty wap lyrics

[refrain]
i’m like “hey, what’s up? h*llo”
seen your pretty ass soon as you came in the door (woo)
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 fifty*six a gram, five a hundred grams though (ts5, my crew goin’ in)
man, i swear i love her, how she work the d*mn pole (ayy)
hit the strip club, we be lettin’ bands go
everybody hatin’, we just call them fans though (all my ts5 crew rеady to turn up, we goin’ in, somethin’ like this)
in lovе with the money, i ain’t never lettin’ go

[chorus]
and i get high with my baby (my baby)
i just left the mall, i’m gettin’ fly with my baby, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby, yeah)
i be in the kitchen cookin’ pies with my baby, yeah, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (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 (oh man, the kids are too much excited, gimme the beat though, gimme the rewind, somethin’ like—)

[interlude]
remy boyz, yeah
1738, ayy (that’s how we do, yeah)
[refrain]
i’m like “hey, what’s up? h*llo”
seen your pretty ass soon as you came in the door
i just wanna chill, got a sack for us to roll (yeah, yeah)
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 fixty*six a gram, five a hundred grams though
man, i swear i love her, how she work the d*mn pole (come on, yeah)
hit the strip club, we be lettin’ bands go
everybody hatin’, we just call them fans though
in love with the money, i ain’t never lettin’ go (ayy)

[chorus]
and i get high with my baby (my baby)
i just left the mall, i’m gettin’ fly with my baby, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby)
i be in the kitchen cookin’ pies with my baby, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby)
i just left the mall, i’m gettin’ fly with my baby, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby)
i be in the kitchen cookin’ pies

[verse 1]
i’m like, “hey, what’s up? h*llo”
i hit the strip with my trap queen ’cause all we know is bands
i just might sn*tch up a ‘rari and buy my boo a lamb’
i just might sn*tch 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 h*lla 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
[chorus]
and i get high with my baby (my baby)
i just left the mall, i’m gettin’ fly with my baby, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby)
i be in the kitchen cookin’ pies with my baby, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby)
i just left the mall, i’m gettin’ fly with my baby, yeah, yeah
and i can ride with my baby (my baby)
i be in the kitchen cookin’ pies

[refrain]
i’m like, “hey, what’s up? h*llo”
seen your pretty ass soon as you came in the door (ayy)
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 (come on, yeah)
we be countin’ up, watch how far them bands go
we just set a goal, talkin’ matchin’ lambos
at fifty*six a gram, five a hundred grams though
man, i swear i love her how she work the d*mn pole
hit the strip club, we be lettin’ bands go
everybody hatin’, we just call them fans though
in love with the money, i ain’t never lettin’ go (oh, it’s how we do on sat*rday night, yeah)

[verse 2]
i be smokin’ dope and you know backwoods what i roll
remy boyz, fetty eatin’ sh*t up, that’s for sure
i’ll run in your house, then i’ll f*ck your ho
’cause remy boyz or nothin’
re*re*remy boyz or nothin’, yeah
[outro: nitt da gritt]
yeah, you hear my boy
soundin’ like a zillion bucks on the track (woo, a particular style to mix ’em like this)
i got whatever on my boy, whatever
put your money where your mouth is
money on the wood make the game go good (woo, all my ts5, with my crew)
money out of sight cause fights
put up or shut up, huh?
nitt da gritt, huh, rgf productions

- fetty wap lyrics

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