Letra de Phone number de Wiz KhalifaLetras de Canciones

Letra 'Phone number'

[Verse 1:]
I cop me one, cop me one for my old girl
You think she my newest bitch, she my old girl
Khalifa, a younger nigga who handle his
Hoes get in my car, ask what the channel is
Boss shit, look that up nigga, I handle biz
On fire, like a candle is
Niggas be dressing off the manikin
Hmmm, and I get fresh like where them camera s is
Better yet sandwiches, bad bitch Spanish friends
Coulda been the President, rather be the man instead

[Hook:]
Now when I get paid, my checks be lookin like phone numbers
Now when I get paid, my checks be lookin like phone numbers
(You can talk shit bitch, I m worth a million)
I m talkin millions, nigga I m talkin millions
(You can talk shit bitch, I m worth a million)
I m talkin millions, nigga I m talkin millions

Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)
Time is money so I went and bought a Rolex (bought a Rolex)
I m talkin millions, nigga I m talkin millions
(You can talk shit bitch, I m worth a million)
I m talkin millions, nigga I m talkin millions
(You can talk shit bitch, I m worth a million, whaaaaaat)

[Verse 2: Trae Tha Truth]
I m in the hood [?] on this something corner surfing
Float, no water, my trunk is waving, I m polar surfing
Blowing faces, I m shittin on them diamond infested
Time is money, peep the wrist bitch, my time is invested
I m still the king and I m thugged out
Any block any club I flood it out
I ain t the one for competition I m a blow it out
I m going hard I don t ever plan on going out
I m getting money, probably something you don t know about
I stunt hard, you would swear that I was showin out
Don t tell me get em, I got em and I m a throw em out
And back door on these hoes that I was warning out
While I m in this machine, convert the top
Tell them that the sky is the limit
With a four of freaks, she got her face in my lap so deep you would think
That she was hiding in it

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Big Sean]
Shrimp, steak, liquor and pasta
Real shit boi, these niggas imposters
They deserve an Oscar, Kevin Costner
Oh my God sir, what?
I got this and that and everything I want like I got a hostage, yeh
Countin 7 digits, no wonder why the money calling
Got ya bitch panties Niagra fallin
Dollars cum like I fuck in the bank
I told them I could, they tell me I can t
They want me to trip when I m dicking the paint
I m poppin champagne and puffin on dank
Shining hard, boy, these niggas gotta see me
My dick hard, your bitch is easy
(Boi, boi, boi)