Trap Queen Acoustic chords by Fetty Wap

Standard Tuning
Capo 5

Modified from JoannexxKim's version

[Verse 1:]
                          Em
I'm like "hey, what's up, hello"
                Am                          C
Seen yo pretty ass soon as you came in that door
              D                           Em
I just wanna chill, got a sack for us to roll
               Am                           C
Married to the money, introduced her to my stove
                  D                             Em
Showed her how to whip it, now she remixin' for low
             C                       Am
She my trap queen, let her hit the bando
               C                           Em
We be countin' up, watch how far them bands go
              Am                      C
We just set a goal, talkin' matchin' Lambos
          D                      Em
Got 56 a gram, prob' a 100 grams though
                    Am                         C
Man, I swear I love her how she work the damn pole
              D                         Em
Hit the strip club, we be letting bands go
           Am                            C
Everybody hating, we just call them fans though
                  D                           Em
In love with the money, I ain't never letting go

[Hook 2x:]
          Am
And I get high with my baby
C                                  D                    Em
I just left the mall, I'm getting fly with my baby, yeah
          Am
And I can ride with my baby
C                            D                     Em
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeah


[Verse 2:]
           Em                            Am
I hit the strip with my trap queen cause all we know is bands
                 C                 D
I just might snatch a Ferrari and buy my boo a Lamb'
                 Em                        Am
I might just snatch her necklace, drop a couple on a ring
            C                             D
She ain't want it for nothin' because I got her everything
           Em                        Am
Bitch you up in the bando, without deniro can't go
       C                         D
Remi boys got extendo, count up hella dem bands tho
     Em
How far can your Benz go?
Am                                  C
Fetty Wap I'm living fifty thousand K how I stand tho
        D                         Em
If you checking out my pockets hol' up


[Hook 2x:]
          Am
And I get high with my baby
C                                  D                    Em
I just left the mall, I'm getting fly with my baby, yeah
          Am
And I can ride with my baby
C                            D                     Em
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby, yeah


[Verse 1:]
                          Em
I'm like "hey, what's up, hello"
                Am                          C
Seen yo pretty ass soon as you came in that door
              D                           Em
I just wanna chill, got a sack for us to roll
               Am                           C
Married to the money, introduced her to my stove
                  D                             Em
Showed her how to whip it, now she remixin' for low
             C                       Am
She my trap queen, let her hit the bando
               C                           Em
We be countin' up, watch how far them bands go
              Am                      C
We just set a goal, talkin' matchin' Lambos
          D                      Em
Got 56 a gram, prob' a 100 grams though
                    Am                         C
Man, I swear I love her how she work the damn pole
              D                         Em
Hit the strip club, we be letting bands go
           Am                            C
Everybody hating, we just call them fans though
                  D                           Em
In love with the money, I ain't never letting go

              Em                                Am
I be smoking dope and you know Backwoods what I roll
           D                            Em
Remy Boy, Fetty eating shit up that's fasho
               Am                        C
Ill run in ya house, then I'll fuck your ho
                     D                           Em
Cause Remy Boyz or nothing, Re-Re-Remy Boyz or nothing