Luyện nghe bài hát Telephone Calls

Brr, brr, brr, brr
Ring, ring, ring, man
Who

Telephone from young Carti, said it's lit
Call the young Lord, A$AP Bari, he
Money clean, young boy, Ian Connor off the (Young Lord)
Fuckin' them boys out of Harlem or the six
This is Gosha, man I pay for No sir
Ridin' coaster, coaster, chauffer

I got bags
I'ma bag bitch, I'ma buy your bitch
(I got money bags, up, turn up)
I'ma cash this shit, I'ma cash this
(I got bags, turn up, turn up)
Carti, bitch, Cash Carti, bitch
(Carti, Carti)
You can have this shit, you can this shit
(What you want, yo?)

Godfather rap, plaits to the back
James Brown swag, got a brand-new bag
And I know how to act
On or off the record, go axe
Harlem up on the map
New York will knock the Apple out you Jacks
Pop your cap, pop facts
Gucci and Dior wars
Who order a piece they hit the floors
Not even shit you see in stores
Who else with me? I you seen the force
I'm in Gibral', I the Lord
Holy tabernacle, snap your favorite rapper
Greedy for the fat guy's
Killin' even though black lives matter
Weak stomach, flow make 'em up
Steppin' stones, I'm stepfather
Tell Tyler, better his flow up
Mix the up with the Pepsi Cola
Nextel or the
Young nigga prolly never up
man with the telephone, uh

Brr, brr, brr, brr
Ring, ring, ring, man
Who

Fuck with Taco, fuck with
Fuck with Lionel, man that shit is get sketchy
Shirt is striped, my shorts are
My Vans are Vans Tyler does not fuck with Giuseppe
Fuck the Gucci, the Raf
And fuck the swag and all that other shit wearin'
Fuck the and fuck the 'Rari
Fuck the Lambo, Tyler only McLaren
Niggas think they really on they trappin'
about like 30 thousand
Fuck the party, the carnival
this year was like 30 thousand
Shoppin', ballin', opal fire diamonds
Make sure my glistenin'
the shit, I wear the shit
They cop the shit, it's you bitch, you niggas trippin'
I'm a businessman, you never been the man
Make a tax bracket chain like have you my home?
Crib got a court
Get my Venus and on
Golf in bitch, better ring the doctor
Ambulance come I hit the scene
That boy flier than a bag of
I got my flowers, a jeweler
Diamond, size of a tumor
He's a genius, have you heard the
He's a winner, no not a
passin' blunts, pass my niggas opportunities
Goddamn, I'm hot, man, I'm not scared to
January, Hawaiian
Boy this weather ain't got a on me
Where's the mirror? I'm nigga
Kunta ain't got shit on me
I'm a master, I hit my own back
To be like, "Y'all boys, my nigga"
Fuck that, it's Golf,

it for Yams, ayy, ayy
I to do it for the grams, ayy, ayy
been way before Instagram, ayy, ayy
I used to serve it for your
Postman! Who's
Walk, Gleesh,
Walk, walk Gleesh,
Walk, walk, walk Gleesh,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,
Walk, walk, walk, walk,