[Part I: Walk Em Down]

[Intro: Gucci Mane & OG Ron C]
We represent destruction, n***a
Death, mayhem, murder and madness, n***a
You try me, you gon' die
You try to score us, you gon' die
Chopstars
It's chopped up and not slopped up mane
OG Ron C, DJ Candlestick
What?

[Verse 1: 21 Savage]
Pourin' up drank, sippin' Wock' by the pint
Rich n***a, I buy you my friendship with the bank (Pourin'-pourin')
Pourin' up drank, sippin' Wock' by the pint
Rich n***a, I buy you my friend- (Pourin'-pourin')
Pourin' up drank, sippin' Wock' by the pint
Rich nig-, I buy-I buy you my friendship with the bank
My boujee-boujee bitch be actin' like she loyal, but she ain't
Fell in-fell in love with a hood rat and she walk stank
My brother-brother down the road with a 'xtendo shank-shank
Felt like I can do whatever, nevеr say I can't
I won't-I won't move off my emotions, I'ma always think
Tracker-trackеr on his car, catch him at the light and bang
I'm a Eastside n***a with a bank-
Used to call us country, they don't want no gun-
I'm with this shit, but countin' money fun-fun though
All the opps say they hard, why they run-?
All these choppers, I can open up a gun-
Really street, I ain't goin' for the guts though
Give you cash money, I can't give no fuck though
Shot-shots hit his stomach, now his guts gone
[Chorus: 21 Savage]
Walk that down-down
Walk that n***a down, walk that n***a down
Walk that-walk that n***a down, walk that n***a down
Walk that-walk that n***a down, walk that n***a down
Put your man down, bet' not make a sound
Brand new-brand new Diamondback back and it hold a hundred rounds
I ain't-I ain't hit no kids, 'cause I walk my man down
I won't-I won't hit no kids, I'ma walk my man down

[Verse 2: 21 Savage]
AK or the SK?
Late night, broad day
.223 change your heart rate
N***a softer than a parfait
Used to serve in a hallway
N***a sold me a bag, it was all shake
Called him back, like, "I want eight" (Hello?)
Thought I came to shop, but it was all take
Pussy, you know what I'm on, pussy
You only tough on the camera phone, pussy
I ain't finna rob you, get your gamble on, pussy
Y'all the type of n***as we put hammers on, pussy
Beef about a bitch, you a tender-dick rookie
Beef about a bitch, you a tender (Beef abou-)
Beef about a bitch, you a tender-dick rookie
I can't even cap, his, cap his baby mama shit gushy
Ami-Amiri jeans stuffed with them blues, all tookie
Used to-used to sell the gas, now I'm sellin' all cookie
[Chorus: 21 Savage]
Walk that down-down
Walk that down-down, walk that down-down
Walk that down-down, walk that down-down
Walk that down-down, walk that down-down
Put your-put your man down, bet' not make a sound
Brand new-brand new Diamondback and it hold a hundred rounds
I ain't hit no kids, 'cause I walk my man down
(I won't-I won't hit no kids, I'ma walk my man down)
(I won't hit no kids, I'ma walk my man down) (I won't-I won't)
(I won't hit no kids, I'ma walk my man down)

[Part II: Don't Kill Civilians]

[Verse 1: Mustafa]
This hood shit don't matter
But when my n***a die, somebody gotta answer
Told him put his gun down
And he didn't make it to another November
Told my bro, "Leave town"
But he don't have the bread to really leave the gutter
And I'm startin' to wonder
Gotta find ways to not go under

[Chorus: Mustafa]
Bro wants to kill again
Told him, "Be patient, you don't kill civilians"
The drop'll come back out if it's written in
No, we don't pray for war
But if it comes, n***as know what we built for
N***as know what we built for
[Verse 2: Mustafa]
Shootouts in the winter, bro got bigger
Finally came home, but to no real n***as
Just us and liquor, his old girl, but he don't miss her
He ain't the same, he can't be with her, oh
Tell me how to cope right
So many dead friends
Your prayers fill the whole night
Tell me how to grow right
Locked in the cell and you hearin' that your bro died
New state of mind
If a n***a trips, don't waste no time
Stay alive, stay alive
We spin and these n***as claim the crime
Bro wants to kill again
Told him, "Be patient, these were civilians"
The drop'll come back out, back out, what's written in
We'll never miss, we'll never miss

[Outro: OG Ron C]
It's about to be a new year, mane
Don't get caught ridin' around with the sloppy shit, I promise you playa
It ain't G at all, you hear me?