21 Savage – Bank Account


I pull up in ‘Rari’s and shit, with choppers and Harley’s and shit (for real)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Got ’em tennis chains on and they real blingy (blingy)
Seventy-five hunnid on a Saint Laurent jacket (yeah)
Be a dog, wanna be a dog, chasing mil’s, dog
Draco make you do the chicken head like Chingy (Chingy)
I ain’t no sucker, I ain’t cut for no action (nah)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight M’s in my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Seventy-five hunnid on a Saint Laurent jacket (yeah)
Please proceed with caution, shooters, they be right with me (21)
I been smoking gas and I got no asthma
Walk in Neiman Marcus and I spend a light fifty (fifty)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Niggas tryna copy me, they playin’ catch up (21)
I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight M’s in my bank account, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
I might pull up in a Ghost, no Casper (21)
Wanna see a body, nigga? Get you killed, dog (wet)
Ruler clips, send a ruler hit
Bitch, I’m Mad Max, you know I got Ziggy with me
I bought a ‘Rari just so I can go faster (skrrt)
Chopper sting you like a eel, dog
The skreets raised me, I’m a ho bastard
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight shooters ready to gun you down, yeah (fast)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Pull up on your bitch, she say I got that ruler dick
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Wanna Tweet about me, nigga? Get you killed, dog (wet)
I ain’t no sucker, I ain’t cut for no action (nah)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Straight up out the seats, now I got a house on the hill, dog (21)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
I buy a new car for the bitch (for real)
Bitch, be careful where you dumpin’ your ashes (bitch)
She fucking with bosses and shit (oh God)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight shooters ready to gun you down, yeah (fast)
I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight M’s in my bank account, yeah (oh God)
I tear down the mall with the bitch (for real)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Bad bitch, cute face and some nice titties
Spray your block down, we not really with that rural shit
I be Gucci’d down, you wearing Lacoste and shit (bitch)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Keep that Siggy with me
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Keep a mad mag in case they wanna get busy with me
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Yeah, Moncler, yeah, fur came off of that, yeah (yeah)
Killed dog, I’m a real dog, you a lil’ dog (21)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
‘Rari matte black and I got a Bentley with me
I got one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight shooters ready to gun you down, yeah (fast)
Yeah, your bitch, she get jiggy with me
Triple cross the plug, we do not play fair, yeah (oh God)
The skreets raised me, I’m a ho bastard (wild, wild, wild, wild)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)
Glock cocked now, I don’t really give no fuck ’bout who I hit
Triple homicide, put me in a chair, yeah (in jail)
Yeah dog I’m for real, dog (21)
Dunk right in your bitch like O’Neal, dog
In my bank account, yeah (oh God)
Plus I shoot like Reggie Mill’, dog (21)
You can’t even talk to the bitch (no)
Bitch, be careful where you dumpin’ your ashes (bitch)
Ready to gun you down, yeah (oh God)