𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ-ɴɪɴᴇ

ᴋᴀɴᴀɪ; ɴᴀɪ

ᴏʀʟᴀɴᴅᴏ, ғʟᴏʀɪᴅᴀ
ᴊᴀɴᴜᴀʀʏ 10ᴛʜ

"When you gon' let me kiss on them pretty, thick lips?" One of my niggas asked. I was on the phone with him.

Never, Nigga.

I'm getting ready to go out with Donte and our associate, Elle.

"You wanna kiss me so bad for what?" I chuckled.

No, seriously, why do you want to put your booty suckers on my lips so bad?

"You so fine. That's why. Where you plan on going dressed like that?"

Boy.

"Out. You all up in my business," I said and fake giggled.

Like, no for real. Get out my business.

If I tell you I'm bout to go out with your one of your ops, I'ma be wrong. Hell on by.

"I'ma call you back, my friend calling."

"You better call me back."

And if I don't? 'Cause I'm sure in the hell ain't gon do it.

"I am, bye."

I hung up and sat my phone down. It's always them niggas named Greg.

I'm wearing this:

We're just going to get drinks and stuff. We
do it weekly to catch up or whatever. Even though me and Donte talk everyday.

Hell, we practically live together. I'm either over his house, or he's over mine.

I finished getting ready and grabbed my black medium Dior Lady Dior bag and put my essentials in it.