1. Deja McCoy #3
I don’t know if I was tripping, but when she got in his face, and he smirked at her, that small interaction between the two of them reminded me of the shit that I often have going on with Hitta.
Hitta was toxic, and he loved that ghetto shit that I do, when I would get in his face, curse his ass out, twirl my neck, and my finger around.
So many times, I would snap on him, just like Lyric was snapping on Blue, and just how Blue was standing there with that goofy ass smile on his face is the same way that Hitta would often look at me.
Lyric couldn’t be fuckin him. Couldn’t be.
She knew he had a wife. Hell, we were cool with his wife.
Granted, I knew in Miami that we could fuck any of these niggas on their back, and none of these bitches men were safe, but I would think that Lyric would spare his bitch.
Not only that, but Lyric would have told me that she was fuckin Blue.
Maybe I was thinking too much into it. That had to be the case.
“Yeah aight. Ya’ll in good hands over there though. Kilo a cool dude. Hottest rapper out of Atlanta right now. This like the 3rd music video for you this month, right? Good shit, sis,” Blue said to me, reaching over quickly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“Yep. This is the 3rd one,” I agreed.
It was a big fuckin deal that I was about to be in Kilo’s music video.
Kilo started rapping about a year ago, and he had the whole world rapping his music.
Every club you stepped foot in, they were playing his music.
He released a new song a couple of months ago, and it was called, ‘fuck & fight’.
When I say that was my fuckin song, I mean it.
I play it every day, faithfully. There was a female hook on the song, where she was singing that shit, talking about all the fuckin and fighting that she does with her man, and it just resonates so much with the shit that I have going on with Hitta.
A week ago, I recorded a video of myself, singing the lyrics on my Instagram story.
The blogs ate the video up, and it went viral.
Not even a day later, Kilo reached out to me, telling me that he was shooting the video, and how he wanted me to be the leading lady in the video.
The coin that he was giving me was nice as hell too.
Crazy thing is that I’ve starred in a bunch of music videos over the years.
It was usually the artists team that would reach out to me.
This time, Kilo personally reached out to me.
He was very professional, telling me that he would accommodate everything.
This man was putting me, and Lyric in a private jet, he paid for our hotel, and all my fashion needs.
Hair and make-up was going to be on him too. I couldn’t pass it down.
Blue talked with me for a little while longer, and then I promised him that I would be out in five minutes.
He nodded to that, telling me that he was going to hold me to it, and then he walked away.
He talked with some of the other girls that were in the locker, and Lyric took the empty seat next to me, sitting at her station, so that she could touch up her hair as well.
I wanted to question her so bad on what I just noticed between her, and Blue, but I didn’t.
Mainly because what if I was wrong? She would have every right to curse my ass out for offending her like that.
Instead, I just leaned back in the chair, so that I could stare at myself for a little bit.
I stared back at the woman in the mirror.
Long gone was that 18-year-old girl sitting in my aunts car on my graduation day, telling her that I was prepared to start dancing.
I was 23 years old now, five years into the game, doing exactly what I intended to do.
At times, this reality made me feel like I was on a high, that I never wanted to come down from.
Taking myself in, it made all the sense in the world why those hoes couldn’t stand me.
It made all the sense in the world why they were saying that I was the baddest shit to ever come out of Miami.
If my mama did anything right in this lifetime, she’d given birth to some fine shit!
That lady had fixed her mouth to call me everything in the book throughout my life, but she could never fix her mouth to call me ugly.
I love my skin complexion. I could use a few words to describe my skin complexion.
I could say honey. Some would even refer to it as a nice tan color.
As a kid, I used to have light hair. Almost like a number four.
Just two years ago, I went ahead and dyed it, so these days, the color that I was known for wearing is a chocolate brown.
That color, mixed with my skin complexion was chefs kiss.
My natural hair was about the length of a shoulder length bob.
Very fine, and healthy. I liked to have extra length, fullness, and body, so my signature style was a traditional sew-in.
The kind where the perimeter of my hair was left out, so I was able to style it any way that I wanted, and because the bundles were dyed to perfectly match my natural hair, you couldn’t tell me that these bundles weren’t coming out of my scalp.
The bundles went down to the tip of my ass, and the curls were so full, and bouncy.
My eyes had that doe- shape just like my mom.
Naturally long lashes, so I didn’t have to wear false ones.
My eyebrows were so beautiful, and full.
Perfectly arched because I didn’t play about getting them touched up every couple of weeks.
Nothing too crazy with my nose. Just a cute little button nose.
Big, full lips. These lips could swallow up a mean dick, and I know that was one of a million reasons why Hitta couldn’t leave my ass alone.
I had a few birth marks on my body, but the one that I was known for is the heart shaped beauty mark that sat right beneath the outer corner of my left eye.
Now, the body. The fuckin body was to die for.
Good genes and staying my ass in the gym is what had me filling out this way.
The waist was so small that one would think that I had an overly strict diet, but I swear I ate whatever the hell I wanted to.
I was a foodie. I had an appetite like a grown man. I’ll eat you out of a home.
When you saw my thighs, you could tell that I was in the gym. Although they were soft and would look so beautifully wrapped around a nigga’s waist, they also held a firmness to them. The ass on me poked out in anything that I wore. Even in sweats, you couldn’t hide this ass.
I went by Poison in the club. Poison was so fitting.
There was nothing wrong with looking at me.
You could look at me all day. That’s the part that was harmless.
Niggas go wrong when they do too much looking, and they become obsessed with me.
That’s when I become poison. I don’t have to take these niggas to back rooms, give a little head, or even let them fuck me.
That’s never been the kind of dancer that I was.
My sex appeal has always been through the roof.
I can look a nigga in his eyes, innocently place my hands behind my back, while batting these pretty eyes at him, selling this nigga a dream, intoxicating him with my presence.
It’s poison, and it’s dangerous because with just me looking a man in his eyes, grinding my body on him, I’ll have him blessing me with all his bill money for the month. You gotta have poison money to get a dance from Poison. I was very particular on who I chose to sit this ass on.
“Let me get out there. I told Blue that I would be out in five minutes,” I said to Lyric, after I was content with what was looking back at me in the mirror.
This bedazzled pink set that I was rocking was to die for.
The bottoms were thong bottoms, so my beautiful ass was exposed.
These B cup titties sat up nicely in this push- up bra, and every now and then, the four pack I had would play peek-a-boo.
I rocked a clear pair of platform stripper heels, that most women would have broken their necks if they tried walking in these, let alone doing the kind of tricks on the pole that I do.
It was hard work being the bad ass bitch that I was. Took a lot of effort.
“Go ahead. I’ll meet you out there,” Lyric said to me.
I made my way out of the locker room. I had to take steps up to get to the main floor of the club.
The second I made my way out here, I could feel my chest vibrating from the loud music.
Instantly, the party goers noticed that I was walking from the back, and phones were immediately pulled out.
I was being recorded, and men did that thing that I absolutely hated, where they would pull on me, trying to get my attention.
“Aww shit. Ya’ll been asking when Poison going to come back out.
She tried to walk out here all discreet, but we see you, baby.
There go Miami’s motha fuckin finest. Opa- Locka born and raised.
The finest shit to step out of Florida. Niggas, ya’ll better take ya’ll money out because there she go!
” DJ Craig, my favorite DJ and hype man in the world hyped my ass up as I tried to be discreet and make my way back out to the crowd.
“Poison! Poison!” they all started chanting my name.
I loved this shit. When you’ve been a certified ‘it’ girl your entire life and have given off main character energy from the moment you were born, you were going to live for shit like this.
Seeing all these eyes on me, the phones pulled out, recording me, I felt like I was in my element. I was where I belonged.