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"cmon bra we got 50 on the line nigga." i heard hassan say while i slipped my t-shirt off coming into the street.
"cmon nigga bring yo old ass." i told him watching as he took his glasses off walking into the street.
"you young niggas think y'all know what an ass whoopin is? ima show yo lil scrawny ass." he spoke throwing his shit up ready to fight.
"hol on bra i gotta record."
"put em up-"
before he could continue i punched him dead in his shit. my ankle monitor was beeping like a mf right now.
"cmon old head, make this shit quick nigga. i got court in a couple days i'm tryna get off this shit." i spoke dodging back at the punch he swung after fixing hisself up.
hassan walked up closer with his phone recording, he walked up again and i slumped his ass.
about 10 minutes later he was stuck in the headlock while san sat arguing on the phone with symere who thought i was gone lose to this bald bitch.
"you done?" i made my arm around his neck tighter as we laid in the street.
"l-let me the f-fuck go!" he struggled to breathe. "round 4 bitch!!"
"ion wanna fight yo ass old nomore nigga." i let em go standing up letting him lay there catching his breath. "shit you making me bored now."
i walked away from him coming up to san. "nigga he clearly whooped his fuckin ass?" he lied.
