wrong number.

thirty-two;

arizoné.

I walked around my room, singing lines of multiple songs. Why? I was bored. When even that got boring, I decided to listen to Stokeley's music. I went to my playlist, where I put Off The Wall on. I rapped along, but only occasionally. "When I d-d-d-d-d-dick that bitch," I paused, yawning. As I nodded my head to the beat, Jakhayla entered, bucking. Why? Good question. Don't know, but I cheered her on. This went on for a couple more songs, us changing roles occasionally. When FUXK came on, I was dancing very ugly-ly. I whipped, milly rocked, reversed, and hit them folks. Most of it was off beat, as I rapped along in a weird ass voice. "thEy bE lIkE x YoU nOt WoRkIng hArd yOu noT droPPing sHit!"

Soon enough, the guys were in the doorway, watching. "Ski, control your best friend," Jello said as he walked out.

(a/n: jahseh is currently irrelevant to both arizoné and jakhayla, so they now refer to him as anything that starts with j. jello, in this case.)

"Ski, your bitch on her period again," I asked. Hopefully Jerome was able to hear me.

"Who?"

"Joker." He laughed, shaking his head. "But nah, bring yo fine ass over here, come sit on daddy lap," I said in a deep ass voice.

"You ain't even take me out to eat, witcha broke ass," he said, flipping his durag and walking out.

"Nah son, lemme lick them tats off yo neck! Deadass b, come back!"