𝐍𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.
𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 9:46𝐏𝐌.
𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐈𝐋.
"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇" 𝖨 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋.
𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗂𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾, 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍"
"𝖠𝗒𝖾, 𝗂'𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺" 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝗎𝗀𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾.
"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗈 ?!" 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.
"𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁. 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈" 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋.
"𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 ?" 𝖨 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽.
"𝖭𝖺𝗐𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺. 𝖣𝗎𝗁 𝗆𝗎𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖺" 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽.
"𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗌" 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽.
𝖩𝗈𝗄𝖾 ? 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒.
"𝖡𝗒𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍" 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾.
"𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽 ?" 𝖧𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍.
"𝖭𝖺𝗐𝗅 𝗂'𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖢𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾" 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀.
"𝖠𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾" 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾.
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"𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑"❤️.
Teen Fiction"Ever seen a gangsta die? Nigga, that's rhetorical. Watched too many gangstas die, seen too many mommas cry. I'm gon' chase a hunnid million, I don't wanna be no homicide"
