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 off the shit (Young Lord)
with them boys out of Harlem or the six
This is Gosha, man I pay for No sir
Ridin' coaster, roller coaster,

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

Godfather rap, plaits to the back
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 will knock the Apple out you Jacks
Pop your cap, pop facts
Gucci and Dior wars
Who order a piece before they hit the
Not even you see overseas in stores
Who else with me? I you seen the force
I'm in Gibral', I the Lord
tabernacle, missiles snap your favorite rapper
Greedy for the fat guy's
Killin' niggas even though black matter
Weak stomach, flow make 'em up
Steppin' stones, I'm stepfather
Tyler, better step his flow up
Mix the pour up the Pepsi Cola
or the Motorola
Young nigga never grow up
man with the telephone, uh

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

Fuck with Taco, fuck Jasper
Fuck with Lionel, man that is gon' get sketchy
Shirt is striped, my shorts are
My Vans are Vans 'cause Tyler not fuck with Giuseppe
the Gucci, fuck the Raf
And fuck the swag and all other shit they wearin'
Fuck the and fuck the 'Rari
Fuck the Lambo, Tyler ride McLaren
Niggas think they really on because trappin'
Made about 30 thousand
Fuck the party, the carnival
Attendance this was like 30 thousand
Shoppin', ballin', opal fire diamonds
Make my sapphire's glistenin'
Make the shit, I the shit
They cop the shit, it's Golf you bitch, you trippin'
I'm a businessman, you ain't never the man
Make a tax chain like have you seen my home?
Crib got a court
Get my Venus and on
Golf in this bitch, ring the doctor
come when I hit the scene
That boy flier a bag of bees
I got my flowers, life's a
Diamond, size of a tumor
He's a genius, have you heard the
He's a winner, no not a
Fuck passin' blunts, my niggas opportunities
Goddamn, I'm hot, man, I'm not to freeze
January, shirts
Boy weather ain't got a thing on me
the mirror? I'm that nigga
Kunta ain't got much on me
'Cause I'm a master, I hit my own
To be like, "Y'all boys, my nigga"
that, it's 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, 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, walk,