Correction Lyrics Walk Down (Remix) by Young Nudy

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Lyrics

Hold up, Kada, you recordin' this?

Clip so long, b*t*h, it hang out the Glick'
Big Chop walk down, don't hang out the whip
Got money on my mind, don't think 'bout a b*t*h
Drum-drum go dumb when I slide with the stick
You better blow wit' your life when that day come
Choppers on choppers, come take one
b*t*h, I'm a lock to come shake sum'n
Keem been a lock, b*t*h that's one of my day 1's

Huh (Ayy), huh
Clip so long that I go off with the sh*t
b*t*h so thick, let her on the hip
Boy, these chops so big that I walk with a limp (Ayy, huh)
Look, huh
Snipin' sh*t up, boy, they think that I'm pimpin'
3-3 in this clip but it's no Scottie Pippen
We argue, we fight, suck me up when I'm finished, uh
Ayy, look
I, I run it up, baggin' up all the breesh (Ayy)
Look, Glock on my hip, get him close on the drill
b*t*h, I don't need a beam (Hol' on, huh, look, huh)
Run down on that boy and we leave him deceased (Wait, huh)
Don't do no talkin', we catch him, we [?] in the scene (Wait)
Run up if you want, n***as know how we get down
He wanna get up, got hit, watch him lay down
Hitters pull up and walk down with that Tre Pound (Huh, look, huh)
Run up if you want, n***as know how we get down
He wanna get up, got hit, watch him lay down
Hitters pull up and walk down with that Tre Pound
I was down bad on my ass with like six straps
You was not there, don't forget that
Chopper break his ass in half like a kit kat
b*t*h we got smoke like a kickback
Stock on the kit has no kickback
Shoot but you miss, what you hittin' at?
Talking that tough sh*t but what is you gettin' at?
Cuffin' that thot, thot, ooh you kiss that b*t*h on the lips

Clip so long, b*t*h, it hang out the Glick'
Big Chop walk down, don't hang out the whip
Got money on my mind, don't think 'bout a b*t*h
Drum-drum go dumb when I slide with the stick
Bad b*t*hes on go, watch her dive for the d**k
Deep strokes, send her home, she on live wit' the sh*t
Four nick with the beam, you can't hide from this b*t*h
All crane came attached, built inside of this b*t*h

Monster, East Atlanta
Look at my gun, came with a beam (Yeah, f**k you mean? Yessir)
Look at my gun, just killed a ting (Ooh, Latto, okay)
Too many bullets come out the b*t*h (Brrr)
Drop, drop a clip, pop another quick (Yeah)
Tryna hit a headshot quick (Baow, baow, baow)
Glock on me, b*t*h, it won't jam (Yeah)
Got one in the head, ready to blam (Yeah)
Hand on hand, I'ma hit you don't point
Broke n***a, why you carryin' a Hotpoint? (Damn)
Get you a twenty-six, I remember I was twenty-six
Always stay with a strap on my hip (Yeah)
Act crazy, chop screw some sh*t (Screw some sh*t)
My DJ carry him a Glick' (Yeah)
Security, he got him a stick (Him a stick)
That one of my homie, shotta, he legit
Why you try to tell me? Goin' in your sh*t (Baow, yeah)
He like the ice on my wrist (On my wrist)
She like the ice on my wrist (Your b*t*h)
He wanna rob for it (You robbin'?)
She wanna [?] on my d**k (Oh yeah)
A-After I catch this body I'm back in this pu**y, finna kill this b*t*h
Back to back fully auto in your b*t*h (Brrr)
I ain't with the [?] (Yeah)
I be huggin' all these cuddle with sticks
Lotta money, it's a Brinks (It's a Brinks)
sh*t'll turn you to lick (To a licky)
They ain't never seen this sh*t (Never)
40's and carbons
Glizzy make a f**k n***a dance like Carlton
I don't wanna smoke your weed, sh*t garbage
And I don't really trust no b*t*h to be honest
I got 40's and carbons
Glizzy make a f**k n***a dance like Carlton
I don't wanna smoke your weed, sh*t garbage
And I don't really trust no b*t*h to be honest

Clip so long, b*t*h, it hang out the Glick'
Big Chop walk down, don't hang out the whip
Got money on my mind, don't think 'bout a b*t*h
Drum-drum go dumb when I slide with the stick

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