21 Savage – Bank Account

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