Ecstasy- Rapper imagines

Church Girl- NBA YB

"Y/n," I hear from downstairs.

"Ma'am," I shout back. She doesn't respond but I know she heard me. "Ma'am?" Still no answer. This stuff gets on my nerves so much bruh. They always talking about respecting your mother and father, but never about how it says to never provoke your children to wrath. People always tryna change God's word to get us to do what they want.

I get out of bed and hurry downstairs, not in the mood to argue. I rebuke my thoughts of anger and focus on the fact that I have a mother. Some people don't.

"Yes mama," I ask as I enter the living room. She's on the couch, with another woman and a boy around my age, maybe a little older.

"Take a seat next to Kentrell please," she says referring to the boy. He scoots over to give me some room. I smile as a thank you and he just rolls his eyes and turns to my mom and the other woman. "Y/n, this is Mrs Gaulden, Kentrell's mother."

"It's nice to meet the both of you," I say kindly, shaking her hands.

"Your daughter got some manners on her. I pray to God she rubs off on this hard headed lil boy," she says, pushing his shoulder a bit.

"You betta keep praying then," he says, pulling out his phone. Well that was rude.

"See what I mean," she tells my mom. My mom nods and looks at me.

"Woulda got ha head thrown off if she talked to me like that," mama says, taking a sip of her water. "Anyway, baby. Kentrell is gonna be living with us for a couple weeks until their house is finished. I would like for you to accompany him until then, help him out 'round the neighborhood."

"If you don't mind," his mother chimes in. I simply smile, looking at Kentrell.

"I don't," I respond.

"Okay, well we best get to cooking. My pie need time to sit before church tomorrow. Which reminds me. Y/n, and go to the store and get me some milk and butter please." I nod, getting up and going upstairs for my phone and shoes.

"Please take Kentrell with you."

"Mane," I hear Kentrell say, while sucking his teeth. I feel his pain. Parents always wanna volunteer us for stuff. It's annoying. I grab my phone and put on my shoes, and head back down stairs.

When Kentrell sees me back downstairs, he stands up and picks up his pants. His behind all out. He walks to the door and opens it, and lets it close on me. Lord give me patience with this boy.

"Which one yours, ma," I hear him ask. I point to the black Toyota at the end of the driveway. It's not the newest or best car, but I keep my baby shining and taken care of. He nods his head and goes over to the passenger side. I pull out my keys and unlock it for him. The car dips as he enters.

I get into the car to see him about to light a blunt.

"I'm sorry, but I don't allow smoking in my car," I say, rolling down my windows.

"Shit," he says putting the lighter and blunt away. "My bad, Ian know."

"It's okay," I say politely. I pull out of the drive way, taking a quick left on the way to the dollar general.

"I could play some music," he asks, pulling out his phone. I nod, handing him my phone unlocked. He starts typing something in while I drive, and suddenly rap music starts blasting through my speakers.

"Can you turn it down please," I ask. First he tries to smoke in my car, now he's playing that rap crap on full blast. Nu uh. Not today satan. Not today.

"Ight," he says, turning it down a little, but it's still messing with my ears. I never listen to this type of music. Don't get me wrong, I listen to secular music. But it's mainly Mary J Blige and H.E.R. Rap music is too disgusting and absolutely degrading. I can't believe I'm letting him listen to it in my car. "You fuck with this beat?"

"I don't really listen to rap," I say, trying not to tell him to watch his language. I don't get why people feel the need to cuss, I can get your point without it. But it's whatever. Your life, not mine.

"Shit, for real? You listen to that gospel shit huh," he chuckles. "Tryna get somebody to take you ta the king, huh lil ma?"

"Gospel music isn't bad. If you really feel it in your spirit, it'll move you. You just gotta tap into it," I explain pulling into the parking lot.

"Same thing with rap, ma. You gotta really feel that shit, and it'll get within you," he says getting out. I didn't even realize he didn't have a seatbelt on.

"Can you not do that around me," I ask him, grabbing a cart. Mama just sent me a whole list of stuff for the house, talking about making Kentrell a dinner and stuff.

"Do what," he asks, doing something on his phone.

"Cuss around me. Ion like it," I say, walking in the store. I head over to where the chips are and grab two variety packs, and some Tostitos scoops, salsa, and cheese dip.

"Sorry ma," he says, grabbing himself a bag of hot chips. He best be lucky my mama ain't here. It don't matter who child you is, she woulda put you in your place in the middle of the whole store.

I get everything I need to get, checking it off the list as I go. Kentrell just follows behind me and places candy and stuff in the cart. My mama gon whip him when we get home. Lord knows he needs it.

I grab me some more hair gel and leave in conditioner, along with some dove soap and toothpaste. "Get Whatchu need. Imma pay for it."

"Ion need you paying for my shit ma," he says pulling out a stack of money. "I'm paying for all of this."

"No thank you-"

"Yo mama letting me stay in ha house, outta respect lemme spoil ha." I smile at him as he places mens deodorant and body wash in the cart.

"Lemme separate my stuff then," I say shifting my stuff to the baby seat at the top.

"I said I'm paying for all of this." He placed my stuff back at the bottom with the rest, and we get in line. He helps me loud everything onto the counter. The cashier rings us up and we walk back to the car. He helps me put the bags in the trunk, but still plays that rap music all the way home.

When we get out, Kentrell helps me bring the bags in the house.

"She rubbing off on him already," his mama says the moment Kentrell goes back outside for the waters. "He neva help me with the bags at home."

"Must like ha," my mama says, placing the milk in the fridge. "Thank you baby, you can go upstairs na. Take Kentrell witchu."

"You coming upstairs," I ask Kentrell as he places the water on the ground.

"If it gets me outta doing shit," he responds following me up to my room. I sit on my bed and turn my TV on. I see Kentrell walk around my room, looking at everything. "You got all these Bibles like they ain't all the same thing. And what's with these crosses? Ain't one enough?"

"There's different translations, and some are just for Bible study. And I like the crosses, they're pretty," I say scrolling through Netflix.

"You different," he say, sitting next to me in bed.

"That's a good thing right," I ask, flipping through the comedies.

"Yeah, in a way. You ain't one of them strict ass church girls who got a problem with everything. This a sin, that's a sin. Mama be pissing me off with that shit. Youn force shit. I respect that."

"Ion like a lot of stuff, but your life ain't my life. I can't judge or force nothing on you. God gon have His way with you, eventually. Not my battle, not my fight."

"I fuck with that."