𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙣, 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩.
This was the saying for many of those who ran with the Southside. In a story where two people reconnect over a terrible loss, they pour into each-other while mourning the loss of their beloved cousin and friend. W...
❝We jump out, chase niggas down. For sure, infront of the church it'll go up❞ — Me vs Me, Chuckyy
JEFFERY "SAINT" AMARE BROWN AUGUST𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 Southside, Chicago
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"The fuck is your issue now, Paris?" Jeff questioned, irritated as ever. She was just so annoying sometimes.
"I ain't got no issue beside you being all up on that bitch yesterday." She replied, slamming her hand on the marble countertop.
"The fuck is you- Simone?? I almost called you a bitch just now." He sighed, running his hand down his face. This was a never ending cycle.
"Call me a bitch and see what happens."
He mugged her, his upper lip curling in disgust. He wanted to shoot her ass but he decided against it. He ain't wanna clean all that up.
"Whatever. I'm out." He simply said, standing from the island chair before sliding his feet into his Thunder Retro 4's and standing to his feet.
"Yeah go, go be with that bitch. Tell her I'm whoop her shit too." Paris yelled, clapping her hands as she spoke.
"And you gon' get jumped, but do you foe'." He said, pulling the large wood from behind his ear before stepping out the Condo.
He patted his pockets for a lighter, coming up empty. Jeff sucked his teeth as he continued down the narrow hallway.
Saint made his way out the building, stepping into his Escalade. He immediately looked for a lighter in his cup holder, grabbing one.
The lighter caught his attention, as it was pink and bedazzled in different charms and pearls. The only one he knew with this lighter was Simone.
He couldn't help but chuckle. She must've left it in his car the night of Zaire's celebration which was about two months ago. He hadn't seen her since then.
He sparked the wood, inhaling the first hit. It packed a punch but he was used to it, mama ain't raise no bitch.
Saint grabbed one of his many phones out his jean pocket, using his face to unlock it before pressing the FaceTime icon. He immediately hit Symir's name, continuing to flood the car with smoke as the ringtone rung.
The call connected, but the face that answered wasn't Symir. It was Simone. A bright smile greeted her face before she spoke, "Jeffery Dahmerrrrrrr, what you on boy!?" Simone exclaimed as you could hear shuffling in the background,
"I'm on the opps ass, that's what I'm on." He replied, swerving through traffic as he smoked. "Drop ya' lo, yall at Symir crib?" He asked, his eyes switching between the phone and road.
