Lyrics
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
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
Please don’t step on my Raf Simons
Hoe don’t step on my Raf Simons
Hoe don’t step on my Raf Simons
Do you know how much I’m spendin'?
My closet worth 'bout a milli
Took the lil' bitch 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 bitch wanna date him
Huh? What?
Don’t want 'em talkin' 'bout the paper
I swear to God these niggas 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 bitch I’m with my Life Savers
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
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, fuck these bitches once they got patience
Yeah, fuck these bitches once 'cause I’m famous
Yeah, put my side bitch in Marc Jacob
Ayy, makin' them plays with my Lego
I get it, I count it, hundred on my table
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 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 nigga, he deserve it
I’ma read his ass like a Labeija
Anna Wintour cool with my mama
And it’s winter cool, 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