Hunter - Bank account but I'm screaming the song 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
Seventy-five hunnid 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
(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 one, two, three, four, five, six
Seven, eight 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 one, two, three
Four, five, six, seven
Eight 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)
Straight up out the seats, now 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
Plus I shoot like Reggie Mill', dog (21)
Chopper sting you like a eel, dog
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)
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 one, two, three
Four, five, six, seven
Eight 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)
Ruler clips, send a ruler 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 one, two, three, four, five, six
Seven, eight 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 one, two, three
Four, five, six, seven
Eight 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)
Seventy-five hunnid 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