You know my Cartier frames got limo tints But I can see through the attitude and silly shit Girl, no, don't do that no more Took her out the car, right on the hood We was fuckin' like animals
𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓
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𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟐:𝟑𝟐 𝐩𝐦
|| Niggas can't be soft tryna run an empire, emotions ain't real || — 𝐒𝐘𝐑𝐄
ఌ
Light illuminated, hitting against the skin of the two individuals who occupied the office space. Dim was his request, despite the dark coverings that shielded his eyes of displaying any truth that lye beneath. The chorusing sound the heel of his foot play against the wooden ground filled the atmosphere, bouncing off of every wall as if it were an orchestrated symphony with the ticking clock.
He'd rather be anywhere else but in the seat he'd occupied, a chair so big yet it felt as if he was sinking in. Every fidget of his body translated into a glide of her pen to dance ink along her paper, taking note of the bodily reactions he outpoured unconsciously. A certain feeling consumed his body, one he was seemingly unfamiliar with throughout the trajectory of his life.
nerv·ous adjective 1. easily agitated or alarmed; tending to be anxious; highly strung.
2. relating to or affecting the nerves.
"Tell me about the moment you first seen her, the things you felt. The emotions that cascaded through your mind."
The time read 11:44 pm, although the evening was just becoming awake to get started. Whispers soared through the streets of Florida, everyone speaking on the presence of the man whose feet maneuvered around effortlessly.
He moved as if he belonged, as if he wasn't moving through territory that seemingly wasn't his own. Although, that part of life never fazed him considering there wasn't anyone to tell him where he could and couldn't go. He moved where he wanted and when he wanted, and dared somebody attempt in telling him any different.
"Fabi ain't here, what can we do for you tonight?" A familiar voice greeted the man who stood before the rest of his crew.
His eyes beamed into the security who covered the door he usually used for entry. "I ain't here for him." He kept it simple, using the lack of his words to show for his dismissiveness.
