On Sight • NBAVONDURK

30: Insta-Drama

Same day; a little later

Kentrell

"And dat's why... say... cuh sum really needa warn you 'bout messin' wimme, on slime. 'll have yo mama screamin' and cryin'... keep playin'." Kentrell laughs, pulling the blunt to his lips and sucking in a deep inhale. "Like, what I wanna know is why ain't be in hea? Cuh I see y'all taggin' 'im in dis shit. Nun but uh bitch- and... and hell, Ion need Durk. I can kick his ass without 'im! Whole time, Durk randomly just popped up dat day. I was doin' fight without 'im." He shrugs, feeling a little bold as the drugs sludge through his system. He licks his lips and sit up. "Remembea, I had ta jump 'n' save dat nigga. Since Bryson wanna fight like uh female." He rolls his eyes, his thick lashes masking just how red the whites were getting. 

As the comments flashed with whether or not referring to women as females was disrespectful, Kentrell offers but a lazy laugh. "Nah, see... cuh if I said he was pullin' uh bitch move den all y'all woulda been real mad. Dumbass hoes. Stop tryna fuck wimme and tag dat baow, damn." Little did Kentrell realize, people were also tagging Durk into the live too. 

Kentrell's eyes lands on a comment which he mutters to himself in a low voice. "Nah, like I said... Ian need Durk ta win dat fight. And Ion know need Durk ta win dis fight eithea." He shrugs, not realizing that as he said this his watcher count grew by one more. 

Bored in the studio and tired of wrestling thoughts regarding whether or not Von was okay, when Durk's phone started to blow with comments tagging him in a live, he just shrugged and decided to join. Just in time to hear Kentrell say he didn't need him. He laughs, shaking his head. Hard to take him fully serious with that blunt balancing in between his lips. Yet, Durk can take him seriously enough to whoop his ass about this later. "Oh word?" The blonde mumbles, getting up to go grab one of his own pre-rolled blunts to light. "Go on."

"Nah... eve if Durk was in hea, 'd keep da same ass energy. Like, what dat Goldielocked bitch finna do ta meh?" Kentrell laughs, "Nunthang. Dat's what. Ain't he been tryna to hit up Tyquian fa da past... fo' years? Yeahhh... Ian scared." He shakes his head, flashing his diamond grills as he smiled; feeling really bold now with his little fanbase egging him on. The majority of these people did not have his best interests at heart. They seldom ever do yet somehow he always feeds right into it.

Durk rolls his eyes, more focused on puffing on his blunt to get the fire to catch than listening to Kentrell lie. 

Kentrell smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Ian eve dissin' on 'im! On foe'nem, y'all stay tryna start shit! Meh 'n' Durk good. But dat don't mean Imma lie and say 'm scared uh dat bitch."

"He bein' real lose wit that word, fasho." Durk forces the corners of his lips downwards as he nods a little. "Hope he know 'm finna beat his entire ass latea." A dry laugh before taking a hit on his blunt. "He betta keep this same exact energy, too." 

Kentrell blows out a puff of smoke directly at the camera. "Did I tell y'all I got dat bitch's name off meh?" Sweeping his tongue across his lips, he gets up and heads to his kitchen... for some reason. More of his preferred filming location. "While we waitin' fa NLE's bitch made ass." He murmurs, flicking the light on and propping his phone on the countertop. Kentrell rests his blunt on the counter than takes  few steps back and pulls his shirt up and over his head. 

Durk bites his lower lip, his eyes eagerly tracing over each and every muscle on the younger's torso. Very ironic that he's the muscular one while Durk's body is slim and soft with nice thighs. He has such nice thighs. "Hope he know he finna get beat ovea this too." He huffs. "Let me wear grey sweatpants on live and he'd break his fuckin' neck runnin' to beat ma ass." Another head shake and a slightly longer hit.