State yo' name gangsta (DMX nigga)
Where you representin? (East coast dawg)
You gon' hold it down? (Why wouldn't I?)
Enough said then nigga (Let's go)

[. Gaze felt upon him, almost like viscious dog gon' mad, turns, glaring at other. Silver chain glistening from club lights. Hardly attention paid to other, he had no time to deal with those 'buff' tight girls who thought they could hurt something. They'd never hurt a person in their life, and he had no time for their bullshit. Deadly gaze turns back upon bartendress. Radiating a deadly atmosphere, like a wolf, gone in for the kill, no warning, no prelimanaries, merely silence. Deep rough voice seeming to break his own silence. .]
Whiskey.
[. Falling back into hostile silence. He hadn't come here to deal with these little white girls who flocked him every now and then. With the occasional few who thought that he was bluffin' his life. Wasn't for them he'd done it all, and wasn't for them to judge. He'd earned it all for themselves, never having his own like these others who seemed to want to live his life for him. Dropping from their schools, from their houses when their parents offered all. Life's upbringing had taught him to ignore those like one dubbed 'Fawn' who knew nothing of what it was like to grow up in Yonker's projects. He'd come not to socialize, he had enough opportunites for that, he'd come merely for a drink. Hand removes silver gun from back pocket, seeming to check bullets in the chamber. Calloused fingers remove a bullet, before setting it back, rolling back the chamber, icey glare sent to other as gun is put back in waist. Funny, he thought, how she looked at him as if she could take him out. The smirk upon her face making her look as if she'd be able to seduce him into a bed, yet he wished for none of the girls. Enough fuck buddies, no more necessary. And long ago, he'd learned white girls were much worse off at their silence then their counterpart black queens. Whiskey shot raised, taken down in single gulp, 10 slipped upon bar table. How good would it be, if once you could take them and show them the crack neighborhoods were niggas stood in the cold, sellin' crack on the corners, attemtping to make enough money to last merely a week. No, they thought merely of pitiful love lives. The people they grew up with weren't behind bars, sitting in the gutters, or laying six feet under. Anger seeming to merely increase in his own hostile silence. .]

How many times must I tell you motherfuckers
We ain't industry niggaz
We in-the-STREETS, niggaz - you motherfuckin right!
Ruff Ryders forever, yeah bitch - now what?

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

• i bite...hard -- Fawn, 11:55:57 06/12/02 Wed
  • [. Ruff Ryder .] -- DMX, 16:58:25 06/12/02 Wed
    • i bite...hard -- Fawn, 17:39:14 06/12/02 Wed
      • [. Ruff Ryder .] -- DMX, 18:19:08 06/12/02 Wed
        • i bite...hard -- Fawn, 18:38:52 06/12/02 Wed
          • [. Ruff Ryder .] -- DMX, 19:01:51 06/12/02 Wed
            • i bite...hard -- Fawn, 19:23:16 06/12/02 Wed
              • [. Ruff Ryder .] -- DMX, 11:32:20 06/13/02 Thu