Album Name

Cozy Tapes: Vol.1 Friends -

Artist

A$AP Mob

Genre

랩/힙합

Release Date

2016.11.04

Release Agency

Sony Music

Telephone Calls (Feat. A$AP Rocky, Tyler, The... - A$AP Mob
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 shit
Young Lord
Fuckin' with them boys
out of Harlem or the six
This is Gosha
man I pay for pussy No sir
Ridin' coaster
roller coaster chauffer
I got money bags
I'ma bag your bitch
I'ma buy your bitch
I got money bags
turn up turn up
I'ma cash this shit
I'ma cash this shit
I got money bags
turn up turn up
Cash Carti bitch
Carti Carti
You can have this shit
you can have this shit
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 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 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 nigga prolly
never grow up
Post man with the telephone uh
Ring ring ring post man
Who this
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 fingers
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 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 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
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
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