Autumar Wick! - Autumn!

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