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It's been roughly three weeks since the blow-up over Psalmist quitting. To say I was angry, that's a fucking understatement. How the fuck are you gonna quit and leave me?! Who the fuck are you to be mad at me about anything I fucking do! Bitch, I made you! It's my fucking money you're living off of!
Speaking of that, I called my cousin, Troy, to reverse the money back into my account. He tells me that Psalmist doesn't bank there anymore. How the fuck did this bitch move my fucking money to anutha bank?! Yo, I was so fucking pissed off. I quickly called her. Then I remembered that I threw her phone into the wall. Her number was disconnected now.
I went to her new penthouse. Yeah, I had her address. I just ain't never had a reason to go by there. I mean why would I go there and she's not fucking me? That would totally defeat the damn purpose of going over there.
I knocked on her door. Low and behold, guess who answers the door.
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"What the fuck are you doing here?" He was mugging the hell outta me.
"Nigga, I'm tryna see Psalmist. Get the fuck outta the way?" I said tryna push my way through.
He pushed me back out the door. "She ain't tryna see you."
"Man, that bitch got my fucking money! I wanna see that bitch!" I said again, tryna push my way through once again.
"You better watch yo fucking self," he said. "I let you slide putting your hands on her because she asked me to, but don't try to push past me no more."
"Let me see that bitch," I said again.
"You got one more time to call her a bitch," Big T said.
"PSALMIST!" I yell into the house.
She came walking up to the door. "Damien, what are you doing at my house?" She was standing behind Big T looking over his shoulder.
"Troy said you don't bank there no more. What the hell is up with that?"
