[Verse 1: A$AP Rocky & Playboi Carti]
I done came up (Yeah)
Bustin' down a whole bag (Bag)
Broke n*gga, step back (What?)
Why don't you peep a n*gga's swag (Yeah)
You don't even gotta ask (What?)
What are those? What is that? (Yeah)
Please don't touch my Raf (Please don't touch my Raf)
Please don't touch my Raf (What?)
I'm racked up like rappers
I'm Raf'd up on camera
Get knocked out on camera
Squeeze pump like asthma
It's rare Raf when I wear Raf
Bare Raf when I wear Raf
Might invest into some Raf shares
Lil n*ggas still share Raf
Yeah and I'm drippin' on racks
Rick Owens be the tag
Do the digital dash
Yeah, I'm boastin', never brag
Please don't touch my Raf
Bought a Kris Van Assche
Alessandro Gucci glasses
W. Anderson collab
Yeah, she pop it like a mac
Yeah, she drop it on the bag
I'ma buy another bag
Cause she always bring it back
Yeah, you know how to make it last
Plus a n*gga keepin' tabs
I'ma fly first class
Quavo hit 'em with the dab
Please don't touch my Raf
[Verse 2: Quavo]
Ho, don't step on my Raf Simons
Ho, don't step on my Raf Simons
Ho, don't step on my Raf Simons
Do you know how much I'm spendin'?
My closet, it worth 'bout a milli
Took the lil' b*tch to the runway
Now she naked in the kitchen
Raf Simons, all kind of crazy colors
Livin' color, left wrist, Rollie butter (ice)
Maison Margiela my sweater (Margiela)
Mama told me never settle (mama!)
Raf Simons, don't lace 'em
Got your b*tch, wanna date him
[Verse 3: Lil Uzi Vert]
Huh? What?
Don't want 'em talkin' 'bout the paper
I swear to God, these n*ggas be haters
They be hatin', I feel out the vapors
Live in cul-de-sac, gon' get that lawn, ooh
Right with my neighbors
Diamonds on my neck and Rollie on
Now, Atlanta got all different flavors
Hit that b*tch, I'm with my lightsaber
Ooh, feel like Darth Vader
Ooh, I'm a boss, so you know I might Wraith you
Ooh, Raf in my basement
Yeah, pass the gas
Bet you know that I'm gon' face it
Wait, that's the reason that they mad
'Cause Lil Uzi, yeah, he made it
Yeah, I wore that Raf 'fore I made it
Yeah, I wore that Raf 'fore I made it
Yeah, got that Raf all in my basement
Yeah, f*ck these b*tches once they got patience
Yeah, f*ck these b*tches once 'cause I'm famous
Yeah, put my side b*tch in Marc Jacob
Ayy, makin' them plays with my label
I get it, I count it, hundred on my table
[Verse 4: Frank Ocean]
We gon' need a bigger table though
Need some cable, tired of watchin' basic
Wouldn't sign ya if I had a label
That designer on a n*gga label fuego
Down the bottle, still under the limit
I could buy your b*tch just off my debit
I could buy her, not f*ck up my credit
Ain't no executives flexin' my blessings
Ain't no middleman cut in my blessings
I got all of this flick for the Lord's worship
You ain't slammin', got the Asperger's
I'ma drag that n*gga, he deserve it
I'ma read his ass like a LaBeija
Anna Wintour cool with my mama
And it's winter fool, need a bomber
Plate of ravioli at Obama's right right right
(Can't you see I'm eating what's poppin?)
Mix the ravioli, stuffed with diamonds, right, right?
(We don't have the same problems)
I get Raf Simons 'cause I'm gifted
That means sometimes I get it and don't even want
Give Raf Simons when I'm giftin'
That means sometimes I give it, you know that you want it