englishRap, Trap

Bank Account Lyrics

by 21 Savage

Lyricist: 21 Savage, Metro Boomin, Drake

22 views • Published on Sep 28, 2026

Bank Account Lyrics

I buy a new car for the bitch (for real) I tear down the mall with the bitch (for real) You can't even talk to the bitch (no) She fucking with bosses and shit (oh God) I pull up in 'rari's and shit, with choppers and Harley's and shit (for real) I be Gucci'd down, you wearing Lacoste and shit (bitch) Yeah, Moncler, yeah, fur came off of that, yeah (yeah) Triple homicide, put me in a chair, yeah (in jail) Triple cross the plug, we do not play fair, yeah (Oh god) Got 'em tennis chains on and they real blingy (blingy) Draco make you do the chicken head like Chingy (Chingy) Walk in Neiman Marcus and I spend a light fifty (fifty) Please proceed with caution, shooters, they be right with me (21) Bad bitch, cute face and some nice titties $7500 on a Saint Laurent jacket (yeah) Bitch, be careful where you dumpin' your ashes (bitch) I ain't no sucker, I ain't cut for no action (nah) The skreets raised me, I'm a whole bastard (wild, wild, wild, wild) I bought a 'Rari just so I can go faster (skrrt) Niggas tryna copy me, they playin' catch up (21) I might pull up in a Ghost, no Casper (21) I been smoking gas and I got no asthma I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 M's 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) In my bank account, yeah (Oh God) In my bank account, yeah (Oh God) I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 shooters ready to gun you down, yeah (fast) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Yeah dog I'm for real, dog (21) Regular, buy the seats, I got a house on the hill, dog (21) Wanna see a body, nigga? Get you killed, dog (wet) Wanna Tweet about me, nigga? Get you killed, dog (wet) Killed dog, I'm a real dog, you a lil' dog (21) Be a dog, wanna be a dog, chasing mil's, dog Dunk right in your bitch like O'Neal, dog I shoot like Reggie Mill', dog (21) Chopper sting you like a eel, dog I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 M's 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) In my bank account, yeah (Oh God) In my bank account, yeah (Oh God) I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 shooters ready to gun you down, yeah (fast) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Roulette clips, send a roulette hit Pull up on your bitch, she say I got that ruler dick Spray your block down, we not really with that rural shit Glock cocked now, I don't really give no fuck 'bout who I hit Yeah, your bitch, she get jiggy with me Keep that siggy with me Bitch, I'm Mad Max, you know I got Ziggy with me Keep a mad mag in case they wanna get busy with me 'Rari matte black and I got a Bentley with me I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 M's 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) In my bank account, yeah (Oh God) In my bank account, yeah (Oh God) I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 shooters ready to gun you down, yeah (fast) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (Oh God) $7500 on a Saint Laurent jacket (yeah) Bitch, be careful where you dumpin' your ashes (bitch) I ain't no sucker, I ain't cut for no action (nah) The skreets raised me, I'm a ho bastard

Meaning of Bank Account

“Bank Account” by 21 Savage is a stark and unsettling portrait of extreme wealth, violent excess, and detached indifference, all wrapped in a hyper-stylized, almost cartoonish display of opulence. The song’s core theme revolves around the intoxicating allure and potential consequences of obscene financial success within a dangerous underworld. It's not simply boasting; it’s a carefully constructed narrative built on layers of materialistic excess – from luxury cars like ‘Raris’ and Harleys, to designer brands such as Gucci, Moncler, and Saint Laurent – presented with an almost surreal detachment. The repeated mantra of “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 M’s in my bank account” isn't about actual wealth accumulation but rather a symbolic declaration of power, reinforced by the constant threat of violence: multiple shooters are always at his disposal, ready to “gun you down.” The lyrics drip with a chilling nonchalance; he casually discusses triple homicides, betrayals within his circle ("triple cross the plug"), and the ability to spend exorbitant sums (“a light fifty” on designer goods). 21 Savage uses jarring references – comparing gunshots to Chingy’s “Chingy,” referencing basketball player Shaquille O'Neal, and even invoking past rap battles – to further amplify this feeling of detachment. The underlying message isn't about aspiration but rather a cautionary tale presented through the lens of someone utterly consumed by their destructive lifestyle. It suggests that unchecked wealth doesn’t bring happiness or stability, only an amplified capacity for violence and a distorted perception of reality, ultimately portraying 21 Savage as a figure trapped within a self-made ecosystem of luxury and lethal consequence.

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21 savagemoney lyricstrap musicluxury lifestylebank account song

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