Lyrics Autumar Wick! - Autumn!

Autumar Wick!

I love you, Balmain
Are ya' ready kids?
Woah, Woah, Woah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, Yeah
We gon' run up in his house like give me that shit
Got a .223 and it kick, kick, kick
You be doin' too much flexin' you a lick, lick, lick
Two 1911s, call me Autumar Wick
She just wanna fuck with me 'cause she heard that I’m rich
All the bullshit, leave it for the birds in this bitch
I be shittin' on these niggas, smell like turds in this bitch
Got a foreign bitch with me, in a turban and shit
Good gas got me high, on some turbulence shit
Bitch leave me alone with that hurryin' shit
I be ballin' on these niggas like Curry and shit
I’m in Bollywood eating curry and shit
I been Hollywood, I ain’t worried 'bout shit
Seen me in public, he was nervous as shit
I remember hoes used to curve me and shit
Now they hit me up 'cause they heard me and shit
YSL coat, it’s furry as shit
He eatin' McDonald’s, he eatin' flurries and shit
Me and Rino, we in Benihana’s
Eatin' hunnid dolla burgers and shit
Runnin' 'round with them .30s and glicks
B.B Simon, yeah it hold up the blick
We gon' run up in his house, like give me that shit
Got a .223 and it kick, kick, kick
You be doin' too much flexin' boy you a lick, lick, lick
Two 1911s, like Autumar Wick!
Two 1911s, like Autumar Wick!
Moncler with the khakis, on my Almighty So shit
Yeah my pockets getting baggy, 'cause all this money don’t fit
Yeah that lil' bitch call me daddy, she say «Autumn, don’t fit»
And my new bitch she bratty, yeah she always throwin' fits
Used to always want a Grammy, I don’t care 'bout that shit
We gon' run up in his house like give me that shit
Got a .223 and it kick, kick, kick
You be doin' too much flexin' you a lick, lick, lick
Two 1911s, call me Autumar Wick