Autumar Wick! lyrics

[Intro]
I love you, Balmain
Are you ready kids?
Woah, woah, woah (Blatt)
Yeah, yeah (Blatt)
Yeah, Yeah
It's Surreal Gang, b*tch

[Chorus]
We gon' run up in his house like, "Give me that sh*t" (Blatt)
Got a .223 and it kick, kick, kick (Blatt)
You be doin' too much flexin' you a lick, lick, lick (Blatt)
Two 1911s, call me Autumar Wick

[Verse 1]
She just wanna f*ck with me 'cause she heard that I'm rich (Yeah)
All the bullsh*t, leave it for the birds in this b*tch (Yeah)
I be sh*ttin' on these n*ggas, smell like turds in this b*tch (Brr)
Got a foreign b*tch with me, in a turban and sh*t (Woah)
Good gas got me high, on some turbulence sh*t (Woah)
b*tch, leave me alone with that hurryin' sh*t (Woah)
I be ballin' on these n*ggas like Curry and sh*t
I'm in Bollywood eating curry and sh*t (Ha)
Up in Hollywood, I ain't worried 'bout sh*t (Ha)
Seen me in public, he was nervous as sh*t
I remember hoes used to curve me and sh*t (Huh)
Now they hit me up 'cause they heard me and sh*t (Ha)
YSL coat, it's furry as sh*t (It's furry as sh*t)
He eatin' McDonald's, he eatin' flurries and sh*t (Ha)
Me and Rino, we in Benihana's
Eatin' hundred dollar burgers and sh*t
Runnin' 'round with them .30s and glicks (Blatt)
B.B Simon, yeah it hold up the blick
[Interlude]
Blatt, blatt
Woah

[Chorus]
We gon' run up in his house, like give me that sh*t (Give me that)
Got a .223 and it kick, kick, kick (And it kick, kick, kick)
You be doin' too much flexin', boy, you a lick, lick, lick (You a lick, lick, lick)
Two 1911s, like Autumar Wick! (Woah, woah, woah)
Two 1911s, like Autumar Wick! (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

[Verse 2]
Moncler with the khakis, on my Almighty So sh*t (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yeah my pockets getting baggy, 'cause all this money don't fit (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yeah that lil' b*tch call me daddy, she say "Autumn!, don't fit" (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
And my new b*tch she bratty, yeah, she always throwin' fits (Woah, woah, woah)
Used to always want a Grammy, I don't care 'bout that sh*t (No, no, woah, yeah)

[Chorus]
We gon' run up in his house like give me that sh*t (Give me that sh*t, yeah)
Got a .223 and it kick, kick, kick (Blatt, blatt, bah)
You be doin' too much flexin' you a lick, lick, lick (You a lick, lick, lick)
Two 1911s, call me Autumar Wick (Woah, woah, woah)