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You betta find sumin’ on his ass, ’cause he definitely on yours. That nigga was a bit too intrigued for my liking when I handed your name over to him.”
“You talk too damn much, you backwood, incest bred, cousin fuckin’, shit smelling, sheep raping peckerwood,” I muttered, towering over him. “If I didn’t have better things to do, I’d take my time shutting you up permanently. You wanted a nigga, well the nigga is here, beating yo’ muthafuckin’ ass. This ain’t the old South. Bitch, I’ll stomp yo’ ass for all my ancestors. Stop fuckin’ playing with me, pussy ass hoe!”
Shit, the orange wig-wearing bastard changed it to the Gulf of America. Weak ass shit don’t even sound the same.
don’t worry about where I’m sticking my dick because it won’t be back inside you. You crashing out after just a taste. If I did all the nasty shit I normally do, yo’ ass would be in jail. Go the fuck home.”
“Nah, ma, they just didn’t have deep enough ones. I ain’t nothing like any nigga you fucked with. You’ll love it here. Promise.”
“Cute.” He slid his hands into his pockets, too casual, too controlled. “See, I don’t like my woman talking to another man like this. I don’t give a fuck about nostalgia. Old friends. If you her gay homeboy. None of that shit.”
“Y’all rich men don’t know nothin’ about no damn seasoning. Always tryna play my people with that bland-ass food. Talking ’bout some ‘organic, all-natural flavor.’ The fuck is that?!”
“You wanna act up in front of me? In front of everybody?” His tone was lethal, quiet, laced with possession. “Let me make something real fucking clear to you.” He pulled back just enough for our eyes to lock. “No one touches what’s mine.”
“There aren’t words that exist to explain how far I’d take it if someone ever hurt my fiancée.”
“I’m fucking the shit outta you, but you scared to ask me for something? Make that shit make sense.”
