Entertainment After calling for peace between Young Thug and Gunna, 21 Savage ignited a broader debate about street codes, snitching, branding, and whether rap’s old moral frameworks still matter in 2025 21 Savage performs during the 2025 Dreamville Music Festival Astrida Valigorsky/Getty Images Last week, 21 Savage took to X and called for reconciliation between Young Thug and Gunna, two titans of Atlanta rap who’d fallen out over the belief that Gunna’s plea in the YSL trial amounted to snitching. In a series of posts, 21 — whose new album is appropriately titled, What Happened to the Streets? — pleaded for the rap world writ large to let go of the so-called street codes at the root of Thug and Gunna’s alleged tension. “Fuck the streets,” 21 wrote, “we ain’t get shit but trauma from that shit.” A few days later, seemingly prepared for a detente, Young Thug tweeted: “Fuck the streets @21savage.” 21’s tweets have sparked what amounts to a movement on the rap internet, with pundits and fans chiming in on the supposed hypocrisy of rappers who rose to fame in part thanks to lyrical content that glorified street violence. Tekashi 6ix9ine, who was roundly ridiculed in hip-hop circles after he cooperated with federal prosecutors following his 2018 arrest, mocked 21’s recent rhetoric. On Instagram, he posted a Story with the caption: “Now it’s fuck the streets but remember when it was ‘yo 69 we don’t care about your platinum records WE PLATINUM IN THE STREETS.’” For all his trollish tendencies, many online seemed to agree with 6ix9ine’s assessment. The tension between street ethics and commercial viability has surfaced repeatedly throughout hip-hop’s history. Jay-Z wrestled with it explicitly in the late Nineties and early 2000s, moving from hardened street raps on albums like Reasonable Doubt to the more corporate (read: capitalist) self-mythology we see today. Debates around artists like Rick Ross, whose past as a corrections officer became public following his initial rise, exposed how selectively enforced rap’s moral codes have always been. There have been pockets of support for the so-called “F the streets” movement, too. Meek Mill, whose incarceration and subsequent advocacy for criminal-justice reform managed to reframe street authenticity in rap, chimed in, addressing rappers and fans taking issue with 21’s comments. “To the guys pushing that ‘street shit’ make sure feeding and supplying resources and opportunities for your family and community,” he wrote. “Make sure you didn’t put the streets before your ‘real family.’” Other artists often associated with “street” rap had similar takes, noting the extensive toll some of the violence depicted in their music has in real life. G Herbo — whose feature on 21’s new album makes for one of its best tracks — added some nuance to the discourse. “THE OBJECTIVE IS TO MAKE IT HOME EVERY NIGHT! THE GOAL IS TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR FAMILY & NOT BECOME A SAD STORY!” he wrote in a post on X. Even so, many see the movement as an exercise in branding more than promoting actual peace. The Atlanta rap scene has been in a state of flux ever since the sprawling YSL trial that saw its biggest stars ensnared in a far-reaching racketeering case. Young Thug, who was at the center of the Fulton County DA’s indictment, spent more than 2 years behind bars. In December 2022, Gunna took what’s known as an Alford Plea, in which he declared that YSL was a gang that “must end.” The rap world came to interpret this as tantamount to snitching, a violation of a sacred rule in the streets. He was soon roundly dismissed by a number of his peers and has yet to make any public appearances with Thug. Among its unintended consequences, the hubbub would inspire the moniker “Rat-lanta.” Earlier this year, Thug appeared on the podcast Perspektives With Bank, hosted by noted Atlanta rap personality Big Bank Black, where he tearfully discussed what he described as a betrayal by Gunna. “Was Gunna takin’ that plea harmful to me? Yes, 100 percent,” Thug said. “First we tellin’ the jurors ‘YSL ain’t a gang.’ Now [after the plea deals] we goin’ back to the jurors sayin’, ‘Well, some people might say it’s a gang — but we ain’t a part of that part of it. We a part of the record label part.’” Further complicating matters, leaked prison calls from when he was still behind bars appeared to show Thug similarly offering information to authorities in a separate, earlier case, instigating a widespread backlash. All the while, Gunna’s recent album The Last Wun was among the year’s best-performing rap projects, suggesting that audiences care less about the so-called “streets” than the rappers themselves. Online, the running narrative seems to be that this entire movement is partly a response to the lackluster sales figures for both 21 and Thug’s recent projects. Despite higher projections, 21’s What Happened to the Streets, sold around 73,000 album equivalent units and debuted at no. 3 on the Billboard 200. Thug’s first album out of prison was met with a muted critical response, and debuted at no. 6 on the charts with just over 50,000 albums sold. Over the weekend, 21 took to Instagram to clarify his position. “When I say f the streets I’m talking about the part that gave me trauma and made me can’t sleep at night,” he wrote in an Instagram Story. “If you ain’t tired of that part you ain’t been through it!” That clarification may ultimately be the most telling part of this whole discourse cycle. In a rap landscape reshaped by RICO cases, streaming platforms, and audiences increasingly detached from the realities depicted in lyrics, the old rules no longer map so cleanly onto the present. It’s no wonder, then, that most of those speaking out in favor of the “F the streets” movement invoke the impact they’d like to have on their kids. No one would wish the thug life onto their child, and as 21’s era of rappers enters middle age, that’s precisely the kind of existential question they find themselves confronting. His “Fuck the streets” sentiment reflects a generation of
