Trap Queen (Jazz Version)

I'm like, "Hey, what's up? Hello."
You look preety awesome as you came in the door
I just wanna chill, got some dough 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 condo
We be countin' up, watch how far them bands go
We just set a goal, talkin' matchin' Lambos
Got 50, 60 grand, prob' a hundred grams though
Man, I swear I love her how she work the hot stove
Hit the strip mall, we be letting bands go
Everybody hating, we just call them fans though
In love with the money, I ain't ever letting go

And I feel high with my baby
I just left the mall, I'm getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby
And I feel high with my baby
I just left the mall, I'm getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby

(lyrics needed)



Credits
Writer(s): Willie Maxwell, Anton Matsulevich
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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