Chauncey
Whit knows I’m not leaving my wife, no matter what I’m doing in the streets. It’s not happening.
I got to break this shit up fast because Rhy finna make a mess. Whit better skate like right now.
“Whit, play yo fucking position, and don’t ever step to my wife. Let’s go, Rhy.”
I ain’t finna let this go down... What the fuck is going on?
Every time I say something, nobody is fucking answering me.
Rhy and Whit are still arguing, going back and forth.
I’ve heard enough of this shit. How the fuck did these two end up in the same spot?
I’m finna try this shit again since they didn’t hear me the first time.
“Whit, I said play yo fucking position and don’t ever step to my fucking wife; that’s an order.”
So ain’t nobody fucking listening to me. I can’t see shit, but I can hear everything. Whit is still running her mouth, and Rhy is finna hurt her. I feel her energy.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I feel a lot of movement in this motherfucka, and the tension is at an all-time high. Rhy is getting hers in. I can’t break it up.
“Don’t touch me, nigga, because if it weren’t for you, this hoe wouldn’t even be here.”
I can’t fucking see… Why am I restrained? And motherfuckers can’t hear me. This shit ain’t adding up. Where the fuck am I? Whoever touched my wife, just know there are going to be repercussions when I sort this shit out. I will address all this shit.
It’s a waiting game. I’m taking notes. Whit and Rhy were never supposed to cross paths. I can hear the hurt and pain in Rhy’s voice. I know Rhy fucked Whit up. Why is she back in the city getting busy, and why can’t I see her?