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HARLYM SAT ACROSS from Key'Mir who was slouching in his chair with his hood over his head, "Mornin' everybody it's DJ envy and Charlamagne the God. . . We are the breakfast club." Envy twisted his mic around as he spun his chair excitedly.
"We gotta special guest inna building!" The camera panned to Key who was swaying his chair back and forth, "He got a lot more money then we seen him in last time. . a lot." Charlamagne shook his head, eyeing the expensive chains Key had on. They were actually sold to him on discount by Chris but he wouldn't tell anyone else that.
"We got Baby Key in the building ladies and gentlemen," DJ Envy introduced Key.
Key looked at his microphone before speaking, "Thanks for havin' me." He rubbed his eyes, he was honestly tired. He liked being on The Breakfast Club but the interview being so early made him regret accepting the offer.
"We love havin' you, man." DJ Envy sat up and adjusted his mic, "We're just glad you're alive, a lot of people didn't think you would pull through."
"Man, ain't no damn bullets gon' take me out." Key took off his hood, "Fuck I look like?"
Charlamagne tapped his fingers on the table, "How many times was you shot?"
"Just three times," Key glanced at Harlym to make sure she was okay before looking back-at Charlamagne, Harlym was too busy texting Jalen to pay any attention to the interview, she was only there because he didn't want to come alone and Quincy was busy taking his baby mama to a doctors appointment, she didn't have a car so he took her to avoid hearing her complaining.
"Just three?" Envy shook his head, "You say that like it's casual. Like you didn't almost die."
Key chuckled, "Some people get way worse. So yea, just three."
"Like the people that shot you. I hear one of them got over a hunnid rounds, you know that?" Charlamagne squinted at Key, sitting up in his seat a bit.
"A whole hunnid? Dats crazy." Key laughed again, "Yeah, that's wild. . ." He trailed off.
Envy shook his head, "Your latest single, Took Her to The H, mentions Duck. The person who was shot over a hundred times, yo' crew have anything to do wit' that?"
"Nope," He popped the 'p'. "We chill as fuck forreal. We don't kill people."
Charlamagne tilted his head to the side, "Key,"
"Charlamagne," Key said back before laughing, "I'm bein' so honest. Killing ghetto as fuck, our hands is clean."
"Nigga," Charlamagne flipped over a paper and read a lyric, "You gon' need three, four hands tryna count my bodies." He looked at Key, "You rapped this over a year ago."
Key laughed before shaking his head, "Damn." He answered with a shrug, "Why you got my lyrics over there? You should have the lyrics to the song that's number two onna charts, you tryna be fed instead."
