Klutch
“Why can’t I go with you?” Roxy questioned. We just got finished going at like two dogs in heat. And now here she goes setting herself up to get her feelings hurt. Roxy is one of the many hoes on my roster, but sometimes she forgets.
“Do I bring other bitches out here when I’m in town?
” I glanced over my shoulder at her. Roxy sat in the middle of her bed watching as I got dressed.
She shook her head. “So why would I fly you out? Just like they respect yo’ time, you gotta respect theirs.
If you can’t, then I’ll find a bitch that can. ”
I’m not about to play this stupid ass game with her.
Roxy knows better than anyone that I don’t play that clingy shit.
She’s the long-standing female on my roster, at almost four years.
Too many times, then I would like to count, her ass let it get to her head.
Making her feel as if she got leeway or the upper hand when in reality it doesn’t.
She’s in the same category as the rest of these hoes, a warm body to get my nut off.
I’ve never been the one for commitment, but it amplified once I became a rapper.
I spend so much time working and away from home that I don’t have time for a relationship, even if I wanted to.
That’s why I keep myself a bitch in every city of every state.
The media loves to portray me as a playboy.
When in reality, I’m just a young twenty-five-year-old nigga living life.
I make sure that every female I deal with knows their role, and I keep their pockets laced from time to time.
“Klutch, when are you going to stop treating me like I don’t mean anything to you?”
“You don’t.”
I turned my head around, picked up my Cuban link chain off her dresser, and placed it around my neck.
She scoffed. “You weren’t saying that when you were inside of me, or when you were cumin’ in my mouth.”
“Do you hear yourself? Just cause a nigga fuck you and shoots his kids down your throat, doesn’t mean he cares about you. You’re nothing but a nut.”
Thump!
This dumbass bitch threw something, hitting me in the back of the head. The remote to her TV fell at my feet. I turned around, and her ass was picking up the lamp off her nightstand.
“Throw it. And see, don’t I knock that paper-thin ass wig off your head?” I spat, ready to lay her clean the hell out.
“Fuck you, Klutch!” she yelled, but knew not to throw that damn lamp. “Get out of my house!”
“Bitch, yeen gotta tell me twice.”
I snatched up the rest of my shit before making way out of the two-bedroom townhouse she lived in.
Her roommate was sitting on the couch watching TV, with her crusty ass feet resting on the table.
Them junts had the living room smelling like corn chips.
I hated coming in this mothafucker when she was here, but it doesn’t matter now.
Roxy just got herself cut from the team.
“You need to put those nasty halitosis, corn chips ass feet up. Got the whole room smelling like five fat niggas who ain’t bathed in two days in a Nissan with no ac.”
She looked like she wanted to say something but knew she would get her feelings hurt. Shorty had more sense than her friend cause Roxy never knows when to stop while she’s ahead.
When outside, I climbed inside my blue 2025 Bentley Bentayga. My phone connected to the car radio. Tupac’s “I Get Around” blared through the speakers. I grabbed the blunt from the cup holder, put it to my lips, and fired it up. I blew out the smoke as I sped off.
∞∞∞
“Ay, bruh this mothafucka bumping,” my homie Gee Mack said, bobbing his head.
We are sitting in the studio listening to the track that I just finished laying. It’s going on my new album, which I plan on releasing this summer. This album will be my fourth with my record label.
It’s been three years since I got signed, after my first day-out song went viral.
A nigga always had a knack for music, but my passion for the street ran deeper.
Honestly, had it not been for my auntie begging me to leave the streets alone, I probably would’ve still been running them instead of rapping.
I’m glad she did, though. Now a nigga makes more money than before, and it’s legit so I don’t have to worry about the police hounding me.
“Real shit,” my other homie, Spider, blew out smoke. He passed the blunt over to Gee Mack after pulling another hit. “That’s gon’ have the hoes going wild this summer.”
My phone vibrated against the table. I picked up to see my little cousin Chastity’s name floating across the screen as she FaceTimed me. I told my producer, Reese, to pause the music as I answered the call.
“Damn it took yo’ ass long enough,” she said the moment it connected.
“Yo’ ass must’ve called the wrong number. I ain’t them lame niggas you fuck with,” I joked.
She laughed and smiled brightly.
“I called to see how long you’re going to be out here. Ma wants to have a family dinner,” she stated.
Chastity’s mother took me in and raised me as her own child when I was seven.
My mom got hooked on pills after a car accident.
One day, she was so high that she almost burned the house down trying to cook.
After that incident, she checked herself into rehab.
My stay with auntie was only supposed to be temporary but that changed when my mom left rehab with a nigga she met inside and got hooked on crack.
“Tell her that I’ll be there until Monday morning.” I reached over and grabbed the blunt from Gee Mack. Putting it to my lips, and puffing, letting the smoke fill my lungs. “That’s all yo’ ass do.” She rolled her eyes.
I chuckled, blowing the smoke into the air.
“Mothafucka, you’re the one to talk.”
Chastity smoked just as much as I do, if not more. Her ass had been hooked since the day she and the two stooges robbed me for a gram while I was sleeping.
“Oh, did you get me on the list for your club hosting?” She questioned.
“Yeah,” I coughed out, choking on the herb. “And I put you down for two plus ones, so make sure you bring Aubrey’s fine ass.”
Aubrey is Chastity’s best friend. I’ve been wanting shorty for years but refrained out of respect for my cousin and her brothers.
I wasn’t the best of friends with them niggas or no shit like that.
We used to hang out from time to time growing up, so we held a mutual respect.
Aubrey was one of those girls who deserves a good nigga, and I was far from it.
I would only give her ass heartache. So, not wanting to cause beef or ruin my cousin’s friendship behind my dogginess, I stirred away from her.
Her face balled up. “I just puked.”
“Don’t be a hater. I’m gon’ turn your best friend into your in-law.”
“Yeah… not going to happen,” I heard a door slam close in her background. The phone went silent, but I could see her mouth move. Evidently, she muted the phone. “I have to go, but I’ll see you this weekend. Love you.”
Chastity ended the call before I could get a word out. I frowned, staring at the screen for a second. What the hell does her ass got going on?
Not pondering on it too much, I told Reese to play the song again and went back to working.