Fetty Wap, Azealia Banks, Quavo, Gucci Mane - Trap Queen (feat. Azealia Banks, Quavo & Gucci Mane) скачать

RGF productions Remy Boyz, yah-ah 1738, ayy I'm like "Hey, what's up? Hello" (Ayy) 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 hundred grams though Man, I swear I love her, how she work the damn 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 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 I be in the kitchen cookin' pies I'm like, "Hey, what's up? Hello" 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 just might 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' 50 thousand K how I stand though If you checkin' for my pockets I'm like... 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 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 hundred grams though Man, I swear I love her how she work the damn 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 I be smokin' dope and you know Backwoods what I roll Remy Boyz, Fetty eatin' 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', yeah Yeah, you hear my boy Soundin' like a zillion bucks on the track I got whatever on my boy, whatever 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 Squad