Luyện nghe bài hát Telephone Calls

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

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

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

Godfather rap, nappy to the back
Brown swag, Papa's got a brand-new bag
And I don't 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 your cap, pop facts
Gucci and biddin' wars
Who order a piece they hit the floors
Not even shit you see overseas in
Who else me? I know you seen the force
I'm in Gibral', I the Lord
Holy tabernacle, missiles snap favorite rapper
for the fat guy's platter
Killin' niggas even black lives matter
Weak stomach, flow make 'em up
Steppin' stones, I'm stepfather
Tell Tyler, better step his up
Mix the pour up with the Pepsi
or the Motorola
Young nigga prolly grow up
Post man the telephone, uh

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

Fuck Taco, fuck with Jasper
Fuck with Lionel, man shit is gon' get sketchy
Shirt is striped, my are short
My are Vans 'cause Tyler does not fuck with Giuseppe
Fuck the Gucci, the Raf
And fuck the swag and all that other shit wearin'
Fuck the Rolls and fuck the
Fuck the Lambo, Tyler only ride
Niggas think they really on because trappin'
Made about like 30
Fuck the party, threw the
this year was like 30 thousand
Shoppin', ballin', opal fire diamonds
Make sure my glistenin'
Make the shit, I wear the
They cop the shit, Golf you bitch, you niggas trippin'
I'm a businessman, you never been the man
Make a tax bracket chain like have you seen my
Crib got a court
Get my Venus and on
Golf in bitch, better ring the doctor
come when I hit the scene
That boy than a bag of bees
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
Fuck passin' blunts, my niggas opportunities
Goddamn, I'm hot, man, I'm not to freeze
January, shirts
Boy this weather 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"
Fuck that, Golf, bitch

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