Aight so boom—Aaliyah in the mirror, edges laid, lashes long as hell, lil see-through crop top showin her piercings, jeans sittin tight on that as thighs thangin. She like, “Ion care what you talkin bout, me n my girls steppin out tonight.” Jamarion sittin on the bed wit his durag on, chain swingin, blic right by him, twistin up a Backwood, he look at her like, “You must got me fckd up, thinkin you leavin out like that wit no me. Who you tryna look good for, ma?” She rolled her eyes heavy, “Damn you always on some controlling shit, fck it I ain’t even goin.” His homeboys in the livin room, Tay n Keem, hearin all that. Tay like, “Ayeee she cappin bruh, she prolly tryna link some lame nga or sum.” Keem like, “She wearin her cheat fit, bruh you better check that.” Jamarion got up slow, eyes low, walked over, grabbed Aaliyah by her neck firm, lifted her chin up, “You got me lookin stupid in front my ngas? You want attention? I’ll give you all the attention, right here.” He pressed her up on the wall, hand still wrapped round her neck, slid his other hand down her waist. “Say I’m yours.”