Trap Queen (feat. Quavo & Gucci Mane) Lyrics

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 selling dope, talking matching lambos
Got 50 60 grams prob 100 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 goAnd I get high with my baby
I just left the mall I'm getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I get right with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeahhAnd I get right with my baby
I just left the mall I'm getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I get right with my baby

I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeahhI 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 Lambo
I might just snatch up a necklace
Drop a couple on a ring
She ain't want it for nothin'
Because I got her everything
Bitch you up on the bando
Ride with me where I can't go
Remy boys got extendo
Count up hella bands tho
I'll fuck in your benz hoe
Fetty Wap I'm living fifty thousand
K how I stand tho
If you checking for my pockets I'm likeAnd I get high with my baby
I just left the mall I'm getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I get right with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeahhAnd I get right with my baby
I just left the mall I'm getting fly with my baby, yeahh
And I get right with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my babyI'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 selling dope, talking matching lambos
Got 50 60 grams prob 100 grams though
Man I swear I love her how she work that damn pole
Hit the strip club we be letting them bands go
Everybody hating we just call them fans though
In love with the money I ain't never letting goI 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
Remy boyz are nuttin' re-re-remy boyz are nuttin'