“Bitch,” I snap, droppin’ my bag down on top’a the table. “Speak English. Or invest in Rosetta Stone. A bitch like me don’t understand bama-ass lingo. So what you betta do is step da fuck away from this table. Trust, I ain’t tryna ride this nigga’s dick, so whatever beef you got wit’ ’im, you keep that shit between you and ’im. Don’t pull me into it.” I sit back in my seat, cross my legs, starin’ this bitch down.

“Well, if you’re sittin’ here with him, then you get it, too.”

“Shelly, will you go the fuck on,” he says, lettin’ out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll call you later, aiight. Damn.”

I smirk, shakin’ my head. This retarded bitch! “Don’t tell that bitch nuthin’. Let ’er keep standin’ here talkin’ shit.”

“And then what?” she asks, glancin’ back over at clique like I give a fuck.

I raise my brow, leanin’ forward in my seat. “You know what, sweetie. I wasn’t gonna fuck this nigga ’cause I wasn’t feelin’ ’im like that. But, the more you standin’ here poppin’ shit, the hotter my pussy is gettin’. And, trust…a hot, wet pussy has no conscience. So guess what? Now I’ma fuck ’im. And I’ma nut all over his muthafuckin’ tongue, so that the next time you think ’bout kissin’ ’im, you’ll be tastin’ me. Trick-ass bitch!”

The crazy bitch tries to lunge at me, but Tone grabs her. She pushes him back. I remain in my seat, smirkin’. Finally a manager decides to rush over and tells her to take that shit outta here before he calls the police on her retarded ass. Reluctantly, the bitch backs down as her girls decide to pull her away. Mmmph, I wouldn’t be surprised if this low-budget bitch’s on probation or some shit.

“Girl, c’mon,” one’a the booga bears says. “Fuck this square-ass motherfucker and his stank-ass bitch. We’ll catch ’em.”