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 young Lord, Bari, he legit
Money clean, young boy, Ian Connor off the (Young Lord)
Fuckin' with them boys out of or the six
is Gosha, man I pay for pussy? No sir
Ridin' coaster, roller coaster,

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

Godfather rap, nappy plaits to the
James Brown swag, got a brand-new bag
And I don't 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 Snapple cap, pop
Gucci and Dior wars
Who a piece before they hit the floors
Not shit you see overseas in stores
Who else with me? I 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 though lives matter
Weak stomach, make 'em throw up
stones, I'm your stepfather
Tell Tyler, better step his up
Mix the pour up the Pepsi Cola
or the Motorola
Young nigga prolly grow up
man with the telephone, uh

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

Fuck Taco, fuck with Jasper
Fuck with Lionel, man that shit is gon' get
Shirt is striped, my shorts are
My Vans are Vans 'cause Tyler does not fuck Giuseppe
Fuck the Gucci, the Raf
And fuck the and all that other shit they wearin'
the Rolls and fuck the 'Rari
Fuck the Lambo, Tyler only ride
Niggas think they on because they trappin'
Made about 30 thousand
the party, threw the carnival
Attendance this year was like 30
Shoppin', ballin', fire diamonds shinin'
Make my sapphire's glistenin'
Make the shit, I 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 like have you seen my home?
Crib got a court
Get my Venus and on
Golf in this bitch, ring the doctor
Ambulance when I hit the scene
boy flier than a bag of bees
I got my flowers, a jeweler
Diamond, fingers of a tumor
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 to freeze
January, shirts
Boy this ain't got a thing on me
Where's the mirror? I'm nigga
Kunta ain't got much 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
That's way before Instagram, ayy, ayy
I used to serve it for 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,