RAF

Lyrics

Dun D-D-D-Deal, hey
 I done came up (Yeah)
 Bustin' down a whole bag (Bag)
 Broke nigga, step back (What)
 Why don't you peep a nigga's swag (Yeah)
 You ain'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 (For what?)
 I'm racked up like rappers (Uh)
 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
 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 butter (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)
 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 on with my lightsaber
 Ooh, 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 ain't 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
 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 (Drag)
 Anna Wintour cool with my mama (True)
 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 (Yeah)
 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 (Plenty)
 Backwoods all forestry
 Raf draggin' on the floor, bitch
 Flame-thrower in it, in it (Flame, flame)
 I'm torchin' the road in these Gucci flames (Heat)
 Stuck to the pavement, they glued (Sticky)
 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, yeah
 Please don't touch my Raf
 Sleep in the grass, Teddy
 Sleep with the Teddy
 Quick with the hands, ready (Ready)
 Please don't touch my bag
 Please don't touch my Raf
 Shirt off, I'm cam ready (Ready)
 Deadstock in memory (Memory)
 Please don't pop my tag
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:15
Key
8
Tempo
134 BPM

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