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 Lil Uzi Vert 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 Lil Uzi Vert 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 Lil Uzi Vert's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Bank Account" not only celebrates Lil Uzi Vert'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!
Huh, violate that bitch, I did, yeah (yeah)
Huh, violate that bitch, I did, yeah
Huh, violate that bitch, I did, yeah
I can't talk about all the shit that I done did (I can't talk about)
I can't talk about all the bitches I done hit (I can't talk about)
I can't talk about all the niggas that got fed (yeah, yeah, yeah)
My pockets be blue, but my eyes, they still see red (rrrr)
Doot-doot, doot-doot, uh, fuck the loaf, I make the bread (bread)
Doot-doot, doot-doot, uh, I see numbers in my head (I'm alive)
I like dead people instead
Doot-doot, doot-doot, ain't 'bout money, texts on read (yeah)
Doot-doot, doot-doot, did it (yeah)
Everything you did, I done been did it (I did it)
Every bitch you fucked, I done been hit it (hit it)
Hit it (hit it), hit it (hit it)
Doot-doot, doot-doot, every time I go to check my bank account
Doot-doot, doot-doot, you wouldn't even believe my bank amount
Doot-doot, doot-doot, I can't count up the whole goddamn amount
Doot-doot, doot-doot, I made it
And sometimes I forget I'm famous, just like I am Amos (yeah)
And I can turn your bitch around and fuck her in her anus
And I just let her spirit up (yeah), for some entertainment
Won my first GRAMMY, put my opps in the pavement
I told my ghetto bitch to shut the fuck up (ayy)
I like tough love (ayy, ayy), I know they don't trust us
I just put it in her mouth, she need a touch up (need a touch up)
And my lifestyle Tempur-Pedic, need to rough up (need a roughing)
I walk in the fuckin' meeting, all you starstruck (lil' bitch)
Baby, you've been blessed to see it, give it good luck (lil' bitch)
My cousins say that I'm a menace to society (society)
When I fuck a famous bitch, I do it quietly (shh, shh, shh, shh)
All my niggas quick to judge, I know they tired of me
Toxic bitch won't let me leave, something up her sleeve (sleeve)
And she know what I bleed, she know my ID
I sent her to Maldives, just so I could breathe
Doot-doot, doot-doot, ugh, came out kicking in October
Last time I checked, your energy was bipolar
Last time I checked, your baby mama had an odor
Last time I checked, she was fuckin' up her motor
Ugh, you was sittin' on a porch
Last time I checked, I'm the one that took the torch
Last time I checked, I cut you off with no remorse
Last time I checked, y'all was quick to go report
If I cancel, then that mean I had some shit to do
If I cancel, I was in the projects, ten to two
If I cancel, who the fuck you think you talkin' to?
If I cancel, call my eldest bitch and tell her, "Duece"
If I, "doot-doot, doot-doot," then that mean I'm probably at the bank
If I, "doot-doot, doot-doot," hug my bitch, I gotta keep her safe
If I, "doot-doot, doot-doot," taper, taper, takin' off her face
If I, "doot-doot, doot-doot," said she want a smart nigga with taste
I can't talk about all the shit that I done did (I can't talk about)
I can't talk about all the bitches I done hit (I can't talk about)
I can't talk about all the niggas that got fed (yeah, yeah, yeah)
My pockets be blue, but my eyes, they still see red (rrr)
Doot-doot, doot-doot, uh, fuck the loaf, I make the bread (yeah)
Doot-doot, doot-doot, uh, I see numbers in my head (I'm alive)
I like dead people instead
Doot-doot, doot-doot, ain't 'bout money, texts on read (yeah)