Egypt
"FUCK YOU JAMAL! I'M DONE TRYNA MAKE THIS WORK!"
"Baby I'm really sorry!"
"Yea. You a really sorry nigga."
"Baby, I love you! I'm sorry. It was a mistake!"
"Jamal leave me tf alone from now on. Ion want nothing to do with you. Bye."
"Bu-"
Click!
Niggas now and days act like cheating is a sport. I ain’t got time to be worried ‘bout no nigga when I’m tryna get this shmoney ya digg? I’m in college and I got bills to pay. At the moment I work at this strip club with my roommate/ bestfriend. It ain't something I wanna do but more like something I gotta do. The attention and the money is nice and all.Don't get me wrong but that shit is short lived. But sadly until I actually graduate college and get me a job, I'ma be working at that club making bank.
“Egypt you okay?” my roomate/ bestfriend, Jacob, asked coming in the room.
He had a towel wrapped around his hair but nothing around his body. When you a stripper you don’t have a problem with being naked around people.
“Yea. I’m good. I broke up with Jamal weird ass,” I sighed, rolling outta bed.
I walked to the bathroom and took a shower. Jacob came in and started brushing his teeth.
“Finally! I was tired of his funky ass walking around here like he paid the bills. I couldn’t stand his rabbit tooth ass. Always eating my granola and shit,” Jacob ranted, spitting out his toothpaste.
I laughed out loud and washed my hair. I washed the rest of my body and stepped out the shower. I walked back to my room and slipped on some sweats and a sports bra. No need to get all dressed up when I would be getting naked again.
“Jay you ready to go?” I shouted.
“Yea here I come,” he answered.
He walked to the front with two duffles in his hand.
“Thank you for getting my bag. I forgot,” I said grabbing the bag.
“You’re welcome. Now let’s go make this moneyyyy.”
Chance
"Aye! We still going to the club tonight?” Chris, my homie, asked.
"We should. A nigga tryna bust a nut!" Santo, my younger brother, said faking like he was fucking a bitch. That nigga stupid ghee. He was getting all into it too.
"Nigga stop. Don't nobody wanna see you demonstrate ya baby strokes," Craig, my homie, said.
"My stroke game ain't weak," Santo said.
"Nigga how you know?" Craig asked.
"Cause ya bitch was moaning it to me last night. She was like 'Ooooh Big Zaddy Santo! Just like that! Hit that spot!'," he moaned and threw a pillow from the couch at Craig face hella hard. He got up and ran away with Craig right behind him. After a while he came and sat back down on the couch, panting hard.
