Glock walked into the warehouse where one other. He stared at his 'opp', he sat down infront of them.
The other a duffle bag to his chest he kisses his teeth. "Uncalled fa bitch." He mumbled, opening the bag.
"Yo ass need to give dis game up."
"Bitch! Stop talkin to me!" Glock yelled, feeling his 'other' coming out.
"Take dem meds, jit." The Florida native said, shaking his head.
"Leave me alone." He mumbled, the door to the warehouse opened, a other male walked in.
"Damn what I miss?" He asked, tugging his chain into his shirt as he walked to the table where other sat at.
"Nun bitch." Nardo mumbled.
"Glock, dis shii is sad yhu need help from yo opps, lucky I still love yo ass." Gunna said.
Glock clenched his jaw. "Y'all niggas gon stop judging me cuz both of y'all nigga Finna get killed." He gritted, rolling his eyes.
"Y'all niggas stole from me den y'all gon give da money back dats what's really sad, oh y'all ain't know I knew?" He asked, looking at them.
They frowned, looking at each other then back at glock.
"When y'all was under my label y'all was stealing from von and Ka, lucky I ain't say shit. Dats why they couldn't go on any tours."
"G-glock I wouldn't dare stealin from yo biggest artists." Gunna said, lying and stuttering.
Glock took his gun from his hip and cock it back and sat the gun in the table. "Gunna, I got eyes all fuckin ova my fuckin company," he said, smirking. "I'm in da mafia business yhu'on think I wouldn't find out?"
"And nardo I know yhu been fuckin von ova by tryin to help him and Shii knowing he hurtin' and grievin' den yhu was planning on getting his heart then yhu was gon leave rii?"
Nardo rubbed his lips. "Say ia-, yhu ain't gotta lie bitch, if he find out dats gon be yo problem but I done checked it." He cut nardo off, placing the two duffle bag on the floor beside his feet.
They sat in pure silence til glock grabbed his gun off the table shooting Gunna in the forehead. Nardo flinched at the loud sound of a gun shot.
Groaning lowly, seeing blood oozing out of Gunna forehead, nardo keep his eyes on the table. Glock stood up his pants hung low, showing the rim of his boxers.
