I’m like “Hey, what’s up, hello”
Seen yo 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 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
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
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby
And I get high with my baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby
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 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 living fifty thousand K how I stand though
If you checking for my pockets, I’m like
And I get high with my baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby
And I get high with my baby
I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby
I’m like “hey, what’s up, hello”
Seen yo 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 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
Got 50, 60 grand, 5 100 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 . . . and you know Backwoods what I roll
Remy Boy, Fetty eating . . . up that’s fo’ sho
I’ll run in ya house, then I’ll . . . your . . .
Put your money where your mouth is
Money on the wood make the game go good
Money out of sight cause fights
