21 Savage – Bank Account (On Ellen) (Live)

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