Lyrical Breakdown of Bank Account - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Bank Account" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how 21 Savage weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Bank Account" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that 21 Savage employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to 21 Savage's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Bank Account" not only celebrates 21 Savage's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ow, ow, ow Wow, wow, ow, ah, ow, ah, ah, ah 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 (on God) I pull up in 'Rari's and shit (skrrr) With choppers and Harley's and shit (for real) I be Gucci'd down (Gucci) You wearing Lacoste and shit (bitch) Yeah, Moncler, yuh, fur came off a bear, yuh (yeah) Triple homicide, put me in a chair, yuh (in jail) Triple cross the plug, we do not play fair, yuh (on God) Got 'em tennis chains on and they real blingy (bling) Draco make you do the chicken head like Chingy (Chingy) Walk in Neiman Marcus and I spend a light 50 (50) Please proceed with caution, shooters, they be right with me (21) Bad bitch, cute face and some nice titties $7,500 on a Saint Laurent jacket (yeah) Bitch, be careful when you dumpin' your ashes (bitch) I ain't no sucker, I ain't cuffin' no action (nah) The skreets raised me, I'm a whole bastard (wild) I bought a 'Rari just so I can go faster (skrrr) Niggas tryna copy me, they playing 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 (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on 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 (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Yeah, dawg, huh, yeah, nah for real, dawg (21) Straight up out the 6, now got a house in the Hills, dawg (21) Wanna see a body, nigga? Get you killed, dawg (wet) Wanna tweet about me, nigga? Get you killed, dawg (wet) Killed dog, I'm a real dawg (21), you a lil' dawg (21) Bill dog, want a bil', dog, chasing mil's, dawg (yeah) Dunk right in your bitch like O'Neal, dawg (wet) Plus I shoot like, shoot like Reggie Mill', dawg (21) Chopper sting you like a eel, dawg (fast) I got 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 M's in my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on 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 (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ruler clips, sent a ruler hit Pull up on yo' bitch, she say that I got a ruler dick Spray your block down, we not really with that ruh-rah shit Glock cocked now, I don't really give no fuck 'bout who I hit Yeah, yo' 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 a nigga 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 (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on God) In my bank account, yeah (on 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 (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) Ready to gun you down, yeah (on God) $7,500 on a Saint Laurent jacket Bitch, be careful where you dumpin' your ashes I ain't no sucker, I ain't cuffin' no action The streets raised me, I'm a whole bastard