Poslechněte si Telephone Calls (feat. A$AP Rocky, Tyler, the Creator, Playboi Carti & Yung Gleesh) od interpreta A$AP Mob

Telephone Calls (feat. A$AP Rocky, Tyler, the Creator, Playboi Carti & Yung Gleesh)

A$AP Mob

Hip-Hop/Rap

244 347

Apple Music Note

přehrát celou skladbu

PŘEHLED

TEXTY

Kredity

PERFORMING ARTISTS

A$AP Rocky

Vocals

Tyler, The Creator

Tyler, The Creator

Vocals

Playboi Carti

Vocals

Yung Gleesh

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Rakim Mayers

Songwriter

Malcolm Lawson-Stribling

Malcolm Lawson-Stribling

Songwriter

Tyler Okonma

Songwriter

Jordan Carter

Songwriter

Asa Asuncion

Songwriter

Massimo Morante

Massimo Morante

Songwriter

Fabio Pignatelli

Fabio Pignatelli

Songwriter

Claudio Simonetti

Claudio Simonetti

Songwriter

Agostino Marangolo

Agostino Marangolo

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Plu2o Nash

Producer

Hector Delgado

Recording Engineer

Jaycen Joshua

Mixing Engineer

Maddox Chhim

Assistant Engineer

Dave Nakaji

Assistant Engineer

Tatsuya Sato

Mastering Engineer

Texty

[Verse 1]

Ring, ring, ring

Postman

Who this?

[Verse 2]

Telephone call from Young Carti, said it's lit

Called the young lord, A$AP Bari, he legit

Money dealing, young boy, Ian Conner off the shit

Fucking with them boys outta Harlem or the six

This is Gosha, man, I pay for pussy?

No, sir

Ride a Ghoster, roller coaster, chauffeur

[Verse 3]

I got money bags

I'ma bag your bitch, I'ma buy your bitch

I'ma cash this shit, I'ma cash this shit

Cash Carti, bitch, Cash Carti, bitch

You can't have this shit, you can't have this shit

What you want, yo?

[Verse 4]

Godfather rap, nappy plaques 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 wax

Harlem back up on the map

This true New York will knock the apple out you jacks

Pop your Snapple cap, pop facts

Gucci and Dior, bidding wars

Who order a peace before they hit the floor

Not even should you see overseas in stores

Who else with me?

I know you seen the force

Commend your boy, I been the lord

Holy tabernacle, Mr. Smack your favorite rapper

Greedy for the fat guy's platter

Killing **** even though black lives matter

Weak stomach flow make him throw up

Stepping stoner, I'm your step father

Tell Tyler, better step his flow up

Mix the pour up with the Pepsi Cola

Nextel or the Motorola

Young ****, probably never grow up

Postman with the telephone-a

[Verse 5]

Ring, ring, ring

Postman

Who this?

[Verse 6]

Fuck with Taco, fuck with Jasper

Fuck with Lionel, man, that shit is gon' get sketchy

Shirt is striped, my shorts are shorts, 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 wearing

Fuck the Rolls and fuck the Rarri

Fuck the Lambo, Tyler only ride McLaren

**** think they really on because they trapping

Made about like thirty thousand

Fuck the party, threw the Carnaval

Attendance this year was like thirty thousand

Shopping, balling, opal fire, diamonds shining

Make sure my sapphire's glistening

[Verse 7]

Make the shit, I wear the shit, they cop the shit

It's golf, you bitch, you **** tripping, I'm a businessman

You ain't never been the man

**** 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 flyer than a bag of bees

I got my flowers, life's a jeweler

Diamond finger size of a tumor

He's a genius, have you heard the rumors?

He's a winner, nope, not a loser

Fuck passing blunts, pass my **** 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 a mirror? I'm that ****

Kunta ain't got much shit on me

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

To be like, y'all boys, my ****, fuck that, let's go, bitch

[Verse 8]

Doing it for Yams, aye, aye

I used to do it for the grams, aye, aye

That's been way before Instagram, aye, aye

I used to serve it to your mans, aye

[Verse 9]

Postman

Who this?

Walk, Gleesh, walk

[Verse 10]

Walk, walk, Gleesh, walk

Walk, walk, walk Gleesh, walk

Walk, walk, walk Gleesh, walk

Walk, walk, walk Gleesh, walk

Walk, walk, walk, walk

Written by: Antonio Marangolo, Asa Asuncion, Claudio Simonetti, Fabio Pignatelli, Jordan Carter, Malcolm Lawson-Stribling, Massimo Morante, Rakim Mayers, Tyler Okonma

Loading...