Telephone Calls (Explicit)

Telephone Calls (Explicit) - A$AP Mob/A$AP Rocky/Tyler, The Creator/PLAYBOI CARTI/Yung Gleesh

Written by：A$AP Rocky & Tyler, The Creator

Brr brr brr brr

Ring ring ring post man

Who this

Telephone call from young Carti said it's lit

Call the young Lord A$AP Bari he legit

Money clean young boy Ian Connor off the sh*t Young Lord

F**kin' with them boys out of Harlem or the six

This is Gosha man I pay for p**sy No sir

Ridin' coaster roller coaster chauffer

I got money bags

I'ma bag your b**ch I'ma buy your b**ch

I got money bags turn up turn up

I'ma cash this sh*t I'ma cash this sh*t

I got money bags turn up turn up

Cash Carti b**ch Cash Carti b**ch

Carti Carti

You can have this sh*t you can have this sh*t

What you want yo

Godfather rap nappy plaits to the back

James Brown swag Papa's got a brand new bag

And I don't know how to act

On or off the record might go axe

Harlem back up on the map

True New York will knock the Apple out you Jacks

Pop your Snapple cap pop facts

Gucci and Dior biddin' wars

Who order a piece before they hit the floors

Not even sh*t you see overseas in stores

Who else with me I know you seen the force

I'm in Gibral' I been the Lord

Holy tabernacle missiles snap your favorite rapper

Greedy for the fat guy's platter

Killin' niggas even though black lives matter

Weak stomach flow make 'em throw up

Steppin' stones I'm your stepfather

Tell Tyler better step his flow up

Mix the pour up with the Pepsi Cola

Nextel or the Motorola

Young ni**a prolly never grow up

Post man with the telephone uh

Ring ring ring post man

Who this

F**k with Taco f**k with Jasper

F**k with Lionel man that sh*t is gon' get sketchy

Shirt is striped my shorts are short

My Vans are Vans 'cause Tyler does not f**k with Giuseppe

F**k the Gucci f**k the Raf

And f**k the swag and all that other sh*t they wearin'

F**k the Rolls and f**k the 'Rari

F**k the Lambo Tyler only ride McLaren

Niggas think they really on because they trappin'

Made about like 30 thousand

F**k the party threw the carnival

Attendance this year was like 30 thousand

Shoppin' ballin' opal fire diamonds shinin'

Make sure my sapphire's glistenin'

Make the sh*t I wear the sh*t

They cop the sh*t it's Golf you b**ch you niggas trippin'

I'm a businessman you ain't never been the man

Ni**a tax bracket changed like have you seen my home

Crib got a tennis court

Get my Venus and Serena on

Golf in this b**ch better ring the doctor

Ambulance come when I hit the scene

That boy flier than a bag of bees

I got my flowers life's a jeweler

Diamond fingers size of a tumor

He's a genius have you heard the rumors

He's a winner no not a loser

F**k passin' blunts pass my niggas opportunities

Goddamn I'm hot man I'm not scared to freeze

January Hawaiian shirts

Boy this weather ain't got a thing on me

Where's the mirror I'm that ni**a

Kunta ain't got much sh*t on me

'Cause I'm a master I hit my own back

To be like Y'all boys my ni**a

F**k that it's Golf b**ch

Doin' it for Yams ayy ayy

I used to do it for the grams ayy ayy

That's been way before Instagram ayy ayy

I used to serve it for your mans

Postman Who's this

Walk Gleesh walk

Walk walk Gleesh walk

Walk walk walk Gleesh walk

Walk walk walk Gleesh walk

Walk walk walk Gleesh walk

Walk walk walk walk walk

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Walk walk walk walk walk

Walk walk walk walk walk

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Walk walk