RAF (feat. A$AP Rocky, Playboi Carti, Quavo & Frank Ocean)

[A$AP Rocky & Playboi Carti]

I done came up (yuh)

Bustin' down a whole bag (bag)

Broke nigga, step back (what)

Why don't you peep a nigga's swag (yuh)

You don't even gotta ask (for what?)

What are those? What is that? (For y'all)

Please don't touch my Raf (Please don't touch my Raf)

Please don't touch my Raf (what)

[A$AP Rocky]

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 niggas 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

Alessandra Gucci glasses

J.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 nigga keepin' tabs

I'ma fly first class

Quavo hit 'em with the dab

Please don't touch my Raf Simons

[Quavo]

Hoe, don't step on my Raf Simons (Raf)

Hoe, don't step on my Raf Simons (Raf)

Hoe, don't step on my Raf Simons (Raf)

Do you know how much I'm spendin'? (Woo)

My closet it worth 'bout a milli (Yeah, yeah)

Took the lil' bitch to the runway

Now she naked in the kitchen (Ooh)

Raf Simons (Aye)

All kind of crazy colors (Aye, aye)

Livin' color (Colors)

Left wrist, Rollie butters (Ice)

Maison Margiela my sweater (Margiela)

Momma told me never settle (Momma)

Raf Simons, don't lace 'em (Raf)

Got your bitch wanna date him (Ooh)

[Lil Uzi Vert]

Huh? Wait

Don't want 'em talkin' 'bout the paper

I swear to God these niggas be haters

They be hatin', I feel all 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 bitch right, I'm with my lightsaber

Oooh, feel like Darth Vader

I'm a boss so you know I might Wraith you

Ooh, Raf in my basement

Yeah pass the gas

But 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, fuck your bitch once I got patience

Yeah, fuck your bitch once 'cause I'm famous

Yeah, put my side bitch in Marc Jacobs

Ayy, makin' them plays with my label

I get it, I count it, hundred on my table

[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 nigga label fuego

Down the bottle, still under the limit

I could buy your bitch, just off my debit

I could buy her, not fuck up my credit

Ain't no executives flexin' my blessings

Ain't no middleman cuttin' 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 nigga, 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'?)

Wrist like 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 it

Give Raf Simons, when I'm giftin'

That means sometimes I give it, you know that you want it

Sterling silver lasers (yessir)

Rubies red, my skin too black to blush

This bitch too rare to bust

Seen her in the iPhone pages

This ain't on the Gram, Wizard of OZ

Parka pockets full of med leaf

Guap is smelling like it brush teeth

Say cheese, see the porcelain

Xans and water, see swordfish

Backwoods all forestry

Raf draggin' on the.. Floor, bitch

Flame thrower in it, in it

I'm torchin' the road in these Gucci flames

Stuck to the pavement, they glued

I'm two-point-five million a venue

And twenty-five hundred a tooth

I'm coatin' my lungs in the muddy

I'm cold like I'm sick with the flu

I cover my face and I'm bloody

That Spring/Summer 2002

Two, two, two, two, yeah

Please don't touch my Raf

Sleep in the grass, Teddy

Sleep with the Teddy

Quick with the hands, ready

Please don't touch my bag

Please don't touch my Raf

Shirt off, I'm cam ready

Deadstock in memory

Please don't pop my tag