“Let’s go have a drink.” “A drink-drink?” I smirked. “Nah, not for me, but for you.” He shoved his hands down into his pockets. “Man,” I sucked my teeth, and he guffawed, “I would’ve went to see you even take a shot, but I’m good. My lady making ribs.” I started walking. “Ribs?” He followed. “We can have the drink at yo’ crib.” Laughing, I said, “I ain’t say you could come over, dog.” “I don’t give a damn. I fed yo’ greedy ass for years and still sometimes do. I’m gettin’ some of them muthafuckin’ ribs.” We cracked up as I bobbed my head to agree before we got into our own cars. That nigga
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