I know that’s right, I think, holdin’ back a grin, ’cause most of them niggas’ dick game is whack. “And that’s how I feel ’bout you when it comes to them other broads I fuck. But don’t let that shit go to ya pretty-ass head ’cause a nigga ain’t tryna be put on lock.”

Although I just fed her a bunch of bullshit, Akina’s still good peoples, and she’s the type of broad a nigga like me needs on his team. But the bitch still ain’t the type of broad I’d wanna wife. Any bitch who sucks the nut outta me, then swallows it on the first night ain’t wifey material in my book. I don’t give a fuck how fine ya ass is, or how good ya brain game is, you played ya’self. And you a damn freak-nasty bitch only good for fuckin’ and suckin’ on this dick. And that’s what it is.

“Well, don’t get gassed, nigga. The dick is good and all, but I ain’t tryna put a lock ’n chain on it.”

Yeah, right. “Oh, aiight, if you say so.”

She laughs. “Nigga, it is what it is.” She rests her chin up on my chest, keepin’ her eyes locked on me. “So why you fucking all them other bitches if they don’t compare to me?”

I grin. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t. I just wanna know.”

Yeah, okay. “’Cause I can,” I say, keepin’ it real wit’ her ass. For as long as a nigga can remember, bitches have always thrown the pussy at me. Growin’ up, I wasn’t like most cats who had to hound a ho for some ass; bitches pressed me for a taste of this chocolate. And since bitches loved to talk ’bout the size of a nigga’s dick, almost e’ery bitch in Essex, Union, Hudson, and Pasaaic counties knew ’bout my dick game. And they all wanted to see— and feel, for themselves. And they still do. “And as long as they’re willin’ to throw me the ass,” I tell her, kissin’ her on the lips, “I’ma keep catchin’ it. I love pussy, and I love to fuck.”