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, Bari, he legit
Money clean, young boy, Ian Connor off the (Young Lord)
with 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 your bitch, I'ma buy your
(I got money bags, turn up, up)
I'ma cash this shit, I'ma cash shit
(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, nappy plaits to the
James swag, Papa's got a brand-new bag
And I know how to act
On or off the record, go axe
back up on the map
True New York will knock the Apple out you
Pop Snapple cap, pop facts
Gucci and Dior biddin'
Who order a before they hit the floors
Not shit you see overseas in stores
Who else me? I know you seen the force
I'm in Gibral', I the Lord
Holy tabernacle, missiles your favorite rapper
Greedy for the fat platter
niggas even though black lives matter
Weak stomach, flow 'em throw up
Steppin' stones, I'm stepfather
Tell Tyler, step his flow up
Mix the pour up with the Cola
or the Motorola
Young prolly never grow up
Post man the telephone, uh

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

Fuck with Taco, fuck Jasper
Fuck with Lionel, man shit is gon' get sketchy
Shirt is striped, my shorts are
My Vans are Vans 'cause Tyler does not fuck with
the Gucci, fuck the Raf
And fuck the swag and all other shit they wearin'
the Rolls and fuck the 'Rari
Fuck the Lambo, Tyler only ride
Niggas think really on because they trappin'
Made about like 30
the party, threw the carnival
Attendance this was like 30 thousand
Shoppin', ballin', opal diamonds shinin'
sure my sapphire's glistenin'
Make the shit, I wear the
They cop the shit, it's Golf you bitch, you niggas
I'm a businessman, you ain't never the man
Make a tax bracket chain like you seen my home?
Crib got a tennis
Get my and Serena on
Golf in this bitch, better the doctor
Ambulance come when I hit the
That boy flier a bag of bees
I got my flowers, a jeweler
Diamond, fingers size of a
He's a genius, you heard the rumors?
He's a winner, no not a
Fuck passin' blunts, pass my niggas
Goddamn, I'm hot, man, I'm not scared to
January, Hawaiian
Boy weather ain't got a thing on me
the mirror? I'm that nigga
Kunta got much shit on me
I'm a master, I hit my own back
To be like, "Y'all boys, my nigga"
Fuck that, Golf, bitch

it for Yams, ayy, ayy
I to do it for the grams, ayy, ayy
That's way before Instagram, ayy, ayy
I used to it for your mans
Postman! this?
Walk, Gleesh,
Walk, Gleesh, walk
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,