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“The nigga should have been taken care of, but I guess because he’s your
brother, he keeps getting passes,” Czar snorted.
“I got my clothes and shit from the loft. It’s yours. The lease is paid up for a year.” He tossed two keys to her. “Oh, and I put new tires on your ice cream truck. It’s parked at the loft. Find something to do with it because if it lands in my tow yard again, I’m sending it through the smasher. Have a nice life, trap queen,” Czar dismissed her.