A LOT LYRICS BY 21 SAVAGE FT. J.COLE

I love you
Turn my headphone down a little bit, yeah
For so many reasons
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (I do), yeah, yeah yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah, ah, ah, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah
How much money you got? (Straight up)
How much money you got? (Straight up)
How much money you got? (Straight up)
How much money you got? (A lot)
How much money you got? (A lot)
How many problems you got? (A lot)
How many people done doubted you? (A lot)
Left you out to rot? (A lot)
How many pray that you flop? (A lot)
How many lawyers you got? (A lot)
How many times you got shot? (A lot)
How many niggas you shot? (A lot)
How many times did you ride? (A lot)
How many niggas done died? (A lot)
How many times did you cheat? (A lot)
How many times did you lie? (A lot)
How many times did she leave? (A lot)
How many times did she cry? (A lot)
How many chances she done gave you?
Fuck around with these thots (A lot)
Every day that I'm alive, I'ma ride with the stick
I'd rather be broke in jail than be dead and rich
Told my brothers take my breath if I turn to a snitch
But I'm 21 4L, ain't no way I'ma switch
Break it down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down
Penitentiary chances just to make a couple bucks
My heart so cold I could put it in my cup
Gang vs. the world, me and my dawg, it was us
Then you went and wrote a statement, and that really fucked me up
My brother lost his life and it turned me to a beast
My brother got life and it turned me to the streets
I been through the storm and it turned me to a G
But the other side was sunny, I get paid to rap on beats
How much money you got? (A lot)
How many problems you got? (A lot)
How many people done doubted you? (A lot)
Left you out to rot? (A lot)
How many pray that you flop? (A lot)
How many lawyers you got? (A lot)
How many times you got shot? (A lot)
How many niggas you shot? (A lot)
How many times did you ride? (A lot)
How many niggas done died? (A lot)
How many times did you cheat? (A lot)
How many times did you lie? (A lot)
How many times did she leave? (A lot)
How many times did she cry? (A lot)
How many chances she done gave you?
Fuck around with these thots (A lot)
Break it on down, I break it on down
I break it on down, I break it on down
Yeah, I just came from the A
I drove back home, six hour drive, six and a half
Before I left I stopped by to see my nigga 21 in the studio
He had two of his kids with him right in the studio, that's when I knew
You a stand up nigga, I love seein' shit like that
Question
How many faking they streams? (A lot)
Getting they plays from machines (A lot)
I can see behind the smoke and mirrors
Niggas ain't really big as they seem (Hmm)
I never say anything (Nah), everybody got they thing (True)
Some niggas make millions, other niggas make memes (Hmm)
I'm on a money routine
I don't want smoke, I want cream
I don't want no more comparisons
This is a marathon and I'm aware
I been playing the back from a lack of promotions
I never was one for the bragging and boasting
I guess I was hoping the music would speak for itself
But the people want everything else
OK, no problem, I'll show up on everyone album
You know what the outcome will be
I'm batting a thousand
It's got to the point that these rappers don't even like rappin' with me
Fuck it 'cause my nigga 21 Savage just hit me
And told me he saved me a spot, on a new record he got
He call it "a lot, " I open my book and I jot
Pray for Tekashi, they want him to rot
I picture him inside a cell on a cot
'Flectin' on how he made it to the top
Wondering if it was worth it or not
I pray for Markelle 'cause they fucked up his shot
Just want you to know that you got it, my nigga
Though I never met you, I know that you special
And that the Lord blessed you, don't doubt it, my nigga
Dennis Smith Jr., stay solid, my nigga
I'm on a tangent, not how I planned it
I had some fans that hopped and abandoned ship
When they thought that I wasn't gon' pan out, I got a plan
They say that success is the greatest revenge, tell all your friends
Cole on a mission, cementin' the spot as the greatest that did it
Before it all ends, nigga
How much money you got? (A lot)
How many problems you got? (A lot)
How many people done doubted you? (A lot)
Left you out to rot? (A lot)
How many pray that you flop? (A lot)
How many lawyers you got? (A lot)
How many times you got shot? (A lot)
How many niggas you shot? (A lot)
How many times did you ride? (A lot)
How many niggas done died? (A lot)
How many times did you cheat? (A lot)
How many times did you lie? (A lot)
How many times did she leave? (A lot)
How many times did she cry? (A lot)
How many chances she done gave you?
Fuck around with these thots (A lot)
Break it on down, I break it on down
I break it on down, I break it on down
I break it down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down
I break it on down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down
I break it down, I break it down, I b

RIC FLAIR DRIP LYRICS BY 21 SAVAGE ,OFFSET ,METRO BOOMIN

Bijan 4 The 1 Time
Metro Boomin' want some more, nigga!

[Offset:]
Going to the jeweler, bust the AP, yeah
Slide on the water like a jet-ski, yeah
I'm tryna fuck you and your bestie, yeah
Chopper with the scope so do not test me, yeah
Ric Flair drip go "woo" on a bitch
Fifty-seven ninety, split the coupe on my wrist
Multi-million dollar, I'm a fool with the hits
Hop up in the Lamb, and drop the roof, show the tits

Poppin' but you really not 'gone shoot
Ninety pointers [?] my diamonds look like hula hoops
Hope in my Bentayga, Hennessy [?] masseuse
Balenciaga, [?], Valentino boots
It's the Boominati way, a lotta Lambs, a lotta Wraiths
Never hesitate to give a nigga yellow tape
And worry 'bout the bag 'cause the cash accumulate
Soon as we came in the game, all these niggas they imitate
Put my mind on it then I put my grind on it
Put the iron on it, if a nigga my opponent
My car five-hundred and I don't put no miles on it
I was runnin' 'round homie, with five-hundred thou' on me

Going to the jeweler, bust the AP, yeah
Slide on the water like a jet-ski, yeah
I'm tryna fuck you and your bestie, yeah
Chopper with the scope so do not test me, yeah
Ric Flair drip go "woo" on a bitch
Fifty-seven ninety, split the coupe on my wrist
Multi-million dollar, I'm a fool with the hits
Hop up in the Lamb, and drop the roof, show the tits

Told the fam, "Got the gang with me"
Bought my purple [?], got some rain on it
Nigga, we used to kick it, how you hatin' on me
Hop in the Bentley coupe and blow the brains out it
We not the same, my nigga
My nigga, we from the north division
Amateur brain, yeah we bought ya just like it's an auction, ain't it
Beat the chopper, hundred round total, like it's apocalypse
I met your mandatory, I'm told that means I had to get it
My shooter keep begging "please," he's ready to wack a nigga
I gave a nigga a diamond, I had to cap a nigga
I'm giving your ho away, like she a raffle, nigga
We go at it, then we 'gone play with the plastic stretchers

Going to the jeweler, bust the AP, yeah
Slide on the water like a jet-ski, yeah
I'm tryna fuck you and your bestie, yeah
Chopper with the scope so do not test me, yeah
Ric Flair drip go "woo" on a bitch
Fifty-seven ninety, split the coupe on my wrist
Multi-million dollar, I'm a fool with the hits
Hop up in the Lamb, and drop the roof, show the tits

Going to the jeweler, bust the AP, yeah
Slide on the water like a jet-ski, yeah
I'm tryna fuck you and your bestie, yeah
Chopper with the scope so do not test me, yeah
Ric Flair drip go "woo" on a bitch
Fifty-seven ninety, split the coupe on my wrist
Multi-million dollar, I'm a fool with the hits
Hop up in the Lamb, and drop the roof, show the tits

BANK ACCOUNT LYRICS BY 21 SAVAGE

[Verse 1]
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 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 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 playin' catch up (21)
I might pull up in a Ghost, no Casper (21)
I been smoking gas and I got no asthma

[Chorus]
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)

[Verse 2]
Yeah, dog, huh—yeah—, nah for real, dog (21)
Straight up out the 6, now got a house in the Hills, 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—21—, you a lil' dog (21)
Be a dog, wanna be a dog, chasing mil's, dog (yeah)
Dunk right in your bitch like O'Neal, dog (wet)
I shoot like, shoot like Reggie Mill', dog (21)
Chopper sting you like a eel, dog (fast)

[Chorus]
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)

[Verse 3]
Ruler clip—umm—, sent a ruler hit
Pull up on yo' bitch, she say that I got that 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

[Chorus]
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)

[Outro]
$7500 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


"BANK ACCOUNT" Track Info
The video "bank account" is directed by Swinsky
Its written by ,metro boomin & 21 savage,produced by 21 savage
from "issa ALBUM"

BARTIER LYRICS BY CARDI B FT.21 SAVAGE

Bardi in a ‘Rari,
diamonds all over my body Shinin’
all over my body Put that b***h on
Molly Bardi B***h on Molly 21,
diamonds all over my body Said,
that b***h on MollyNigga, I’m ’bout it.
(Cardi B – Bartier Cardi) Your b***h wanna party with
Cardi Cartier Bardi in a ‘Rari (21)
Diamonds all over my body (Cardi)
Shinin’ all over my body (my body) Cardi got your b***h on molly
B***h, you ain’t gang, you lame
Bentley truck lane to lane Blow out the brain (21) I go insane,
insane I drop a check on the chain F**k up a check in the plane
Cardi took your man, you upset, uh Cardi got rich,
they upset, yeah (From what?) Cardi put the p***y on
Offset (Say what?) Cartier, Cardi B brain on
Offset (21) Cardi took your man, you upset, uh

Cardi got rich, they upset, yeah Cardi put the p***y on
Offset (Cardi) Cartier, Cardi B brain on Offset.
Who get this mothafucker started? (Cardi)
Who took your b***h out to party?
(Cardi) I took your b***h in the party (Cardi)
Who that be fly as a Martian? (Cardi)
Who that on fleek in the cut? (Cardi)
Who got the bricks in the truck? (Cardi)
Them diamonds gon’ hit like a b***h on a
b***h a*s b***h B***h, you a wannabe Cardi Red bottom

M.J. moonwalk on a b***h
Moonwalkin’ through your clique I’m moonwalkin’ in the 6
Sticky with the kick, moonrocks in this
b***h I from the motherfuckin’ Bronx (Bronx)
I keep the pump in the trunk (trunk)
B***h if you bad then jump (jump)
Might lead your b***h in a slump (your back)
Your b***h wanna party with Cardi Cartier
Bardi in a ‘Rari (21) Diamonds all over my body (Cardi)
Shinin’ all over my body (my body)
Cardi got your b***h on molly B***h,

you ain’t gang, you lame Bentley truck lane to lane
Blow out the brain (21) I go insane, insane I drop a check on the
chain F**k up a check in the plane
Cardi took your man, you upset, uh Cardi got rich, they upset,
yeah (From what?) Cardi put the p***y on
Offset (Say what?) Cartier, Cardi B brain on Offset (21)
Cardi took your man, you upset, uh
Cardi got rich, they upset, yeah Cardi put the p***y on
Offset (Cardi) Cartier, Cardi B brain on Offset (Cardi)
Your b***h wanna party with a Savage (21),
Saint Laurent Savage in an Aston (yeah)

High end cars and fashion (21),
I don’t eat p***y, I’m fastin’ (on God)
I’m a Blood, my brother Crippin’, b***h,
I’m drippin’, ho, you trippin’ Told the waitress
I ain’t tippin’, I like hot sauce on my chicken (on God)
I pulled the rubber off and I put hot sauce on
her titties (21) I’m in a Bentley truck,
she keep on suckin’ like it’s tinted (21) All these VVS’,
nigga, my sperm worth millions (on God)
The b***h so bad I popped a Molly ‘fore I hit it (21, 21)
Your b***h wanna party with Cardi Cartier
Bardi in a ‘Rari (21) Diamonds all over my body (Cardi)
Shinin’ all over my body (my body)

Cardi got your b***h on molly B***h, you ain’t gang, you lame
Bentley truck lane to lane Blow out the brain (21)
I go insane, insane I drop a check on the chain
F**k up a check in the plane Cardi took your man,
you upset, uh Cardi got rich, they upset, yeah (From what?)
Cardi put the p***y on Offset (Say what?)
Cartier, Cardi B brain on Offset (21)
Cardi took your man, you upset, uh
Cardi got rich, they upset, yeah
Cardi put the p***y on Offset (Cardi) Cartier,
Cardi B brain on Offset (Cardi) Step in this b***h in
Givenchy (cash) F**k up a check in Givenchy (cash)
Boss out the coupe and them inches
I f**k up a bag at the Fendi, I f**k up a bag in a minute

Who you know drip like this?
Who you know built like this? I’m poppin’ s**t like a
dude Pull up to pop at your crew Brr, poppin’ at you, woo
They say you basic I flooded the
Rollie with diamonds
I flooded the Patek and bracelet I got your b***h and
she naked Ice on the cake, when I bake it
I’m switchin’ lanes in the Range Swap out the d**k
for the brain Swap out your b***h for your main
Swap out the trap for the fame Ice on them
Carti B Cartier frames. Your b***h wanna party with Cardi
Cartier Bardi in a ‘Rari (21)

Diamonds all over my body (Cardi)
Shinin’ all over my body (my body)
Cardi got your b***h on molly B***h,
you ain’t gang, you lame Bentley truck lane to lane
Blow out the brain (21) I go insane,
insane I drop a check on the chain F**k up a check in the plane
Cardi took your man, you upset, uh
Cardi got rich, they upset, yeah
(From what?) Cardi put the p***y on
Offset (Say what?)
Cartier, Cardi B brain on Offset
(21) Cardi took your man, you upset,
uh Cardi got rich, they upset,
yeah Cardi put the p***y on
Offset (Cardi) Cartier, Cardi B
brain on Offsettt.(bartier cardi)

ROCKSTAR LYRICS BY POST MALONE FT.21 SAVAGE

   
Play "Rockstar"

Ayy, I've been fuckin' hoes and poppin' pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar (star)
Ayy, ayy, all my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin' like a Rasta
Fuckin' with me, call up on a Uzi
And show up, man them the shottas
When my homies pull up on your block
They make that thing go grrra-ta-ta-ta (pow, pow, pow)

Ayy, ayy, switch my whip, came back in black
I'm startin' sayin', "Rest in peace to Bon Scott"
Ayy, close that door, we blowin' smoke
She ask me light a fire like I'm Morrison
Ayy, act a fool on stage
Prolly leave my fuckin' show in a cop car
Ayy, shit was legendary
Threw a TV out the window of the Montage
Cocaine on the table, liquor pourin', don't give a damn
Dude, your girlfriend is a groupie, she just tryna get in
Sayin', "I'm with the band"
Ayy, ayy, now she actin' outta pocket
Tryna grab up from my pants
Hundred bitches in my trailer say they ain't got a man
And they all brought a friend
Yeah, ayy

Ayy, I've been fuckin' hoes and poppin' pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar (star)
Ayy, ayy, all my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin' like a Rasta
Fuckin' with me, call up on a Uzi
And show up, man them the shottas
When my homies pull up on your block
They make that thing go grrra-ta-ta-ta (pow, pow, pow)

I've been in the Hills fuckin' superstars
Feelin' like a pop star (21, 21, 21)
Drankin' Henny, bad bitches jumpin' in the pool
And they ain't got on no bra
Hit her from the back, pullin' on her tracks
And now she screamin' out, "no más" (yeah, yeah, yeah)
They like, "Savage, why you got a 12 car garage
And you only got 6 cars?" (21)
I ain't with the cakin', how you kiss that? (kiss that?)
Your wifey say I'm lookin' like a whole snack (big snack)
Green hundreds in my safe, I got old racks (old racks)
L.A. bitches always askin' where the coke at
Livin' like a rockstar, smash out on a cop car
Sweeter than a Pop-Tart, you know you are not hard
I done made the hot chart, 'member I used to trap hard
Livin' like a rockstar, I'm livin' like a rockstar

Ayy, I've been fuckin' hoes and poppin' pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar (star)
Ayy, ayy, all my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin' like a Rasta
Fuckin' with me, call up on a Uzi
And show up, man them the shottas
When my homies pull up on your block
They make that thing go grrra-ta-ta-ta (pow, pow, pow)

Rockstar
Rockstar, feel just like a rock
Rockstar
Star
Rockstar
Feel just like a