Back to the previous page

Artist: A$AP Mob f/ A$AP Rocky, Playboi Carti, Tyler, the Creator, Yung Gleesh
Album:  Cozy Tapes, Vol. 1: Friends
Song:   Telephone Calls
Typed by: Cedmaster3K
[Intro: A$AP Rocky]
Blrt! Blrrrt! Blrrt!
Ring ring ring!
Postman, who this?
{"Nash Effect"}
[A$AP Rocky]
Telephone call from young Carti, said it's lit (blrrt!)
Call the young Lord, A$AP Bari, he legit (money bags)
Money clean, young boy, Ian Connor off the shit (Young Lord)
Fuckin' with them boys out of Harlem or the six (uhh)
This is Gosha, man I pay for pussy? No sir (yeah)
Ridin' grosser, roller coaster, chauffer
[Playboi Carti]
I got money bags, I'ma bag your bitch, I'ma buy your bitch (turn up, turn up)
I got money bags, I'ma cash this shit, I'ma cash this shit (yea yea)
I got money bags, Cash Carti bitch, Cash Carti bitch (Carti, Carti)
Fuck them bags bitch, you can have this shit, you can have this shit
What you want, yo?
[A$AP Rocky]
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)
Pop your Snapple cap, pop facts
Gucci and Dior biddin' wars
Who order a piece before they hit the floors?
Not even shit 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 smack your favorite rapper (woo)
Greedy for the fat guy's platter (woo)
Killin' niggas even though black lives matter (woo)
Weak stomach, flow make 'em throw up (yeah)
Steppin' stones, I'm your stepfather (yeah)
Tell Tyler better step his flow up (uhh)
Mix the pour up with the Pepsi Cola
Nextel or the Motorola
Young nigga prol'ly never grow up
Postman with the telephone-a
[Interlude: A$AP Rocky]
Ring ring ring!
Postman, who this?
[Tyler, the Creator]
Fuck with Taco, fuck with Jasper
Fuck with Lionel, man that shit is gon' get sketchy
Shirt is striped, my shorts are short
My Vans are Vans 'cause Tyler does not fuck with Giuseppe
Fuck the Gucci, fuck the Raf
and fuck the swag and all that other shit they wearin'
Fuck the Rolls and fuck the 'Rari
Fuck the Lambo, Tyler only ride McLaren
Niggas think they really on because they trappin'
Made about like 30 thousand
Fuck the party, threw the carnival
Attendance this year was like 30 thousand
Shoppin', ballin', opal fire diamonds shinin'
Make sure my sapphire's glistenin'
Make the shit, I wear the shit
They cop the shit, it's Golf, you bitch, you niggas trippin'
I'm a businessman, you ain't never been the man
Nigga tax bracket changed, like have you seen my home?
Crib got a tennis court
Get my Venus and Serena on
Golf in this bitch, better ring the doctor
Ambulance come when I hit the scene
That boy flier than a bag of bees
I got my flowers, life's a jeweler
Diamond finger's size of a tumor
He's a genius, have you heard the rumors?
He's a winner, no not a loser
Fuck passin' blunts, pass my niggas opportuni-
-ties, goddamn
I'm hot man, I'm not scared to freeze
January, Hawaiian shirts
Boy this weather ain't got a thing on me
Where's the mirror? I'm that nigga
Kunta ain't got much shit on me
cause I'm a master, I hit my own back
to be like, "Y'all boys my nigga", fuck that
It's Golf bitch
[Outro: Yung Gleesh] + (A$AP Rocky)
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 to your mans, ayy
(Postman, who this?) Walk Gleesh, walk (walk)
Walk, walk Gleesh, walk, walk, walk Gleesh, walk
Walk, 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, walk, walk, walk, walk