𝑵𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 ™

𝙩𝙬𝙤

𝗗𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗱 𝗥𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀
𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗹 , 𝗶𝗻 𝗱𝗮 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯 .
𝟭𝟮.:𝟰𝟱 𝗔.𝗠

IT WAS 12:30 A.M , and the block in Sugarhill Harlem was lit with the usual late-night buzz. Streetlights flickered as the OY crew hung out, their voices mingling with the hum of the city. David, known on the block as DD Osama, leaned against a car, his eyes scanning the scene. The usual suspects were with him—Ddot, Edot, Notti, Dudeylo, Bloodie, and Keem.

Notti took a drag from his blunt, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Yo, y'all seen them girls at the school? Most of 'em be bops, hoes, or just plain fucking ugly."

Ddot laughed, shaking his head. "Facts. It's like every girl there just tryna get some attention, no real substance."

Edot nodded, his tone casual but firm. "Word. Half of 'em can't even hold a decent convo. Just here for the clout."

DD Osama smirked, taking a swig from his bottle. "Man, they just be frontin'. Talkin' 'bout they all that, but can't even keep it real. Ain't nobody got time for that."

Bloodie chimed in, his voice low. "Yeah, and the ones that do got some sense? They're all tryna act too good or stuck-up. It's like they think they too good for us or somethin'."

Keem shrugged. "Ain't even worth the time. Most of them just wanna party and play games. Ain't no real vibes."

Notti exhaled another puff of smoke, grinning. "But yo, that Karma and her crew, they aight. Not saying they all that, but they different from the rest. They seem chill."

Ddot raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You mean Karma and her girls? Eva, Jayla, and Tati? They actually seem decent. I ain't gonna lie, they ain't all bad."

Edot laughed. "Decent ain't bad. They ain't out here wildin' like the rest. Might actually be worth talkin' to."

DD Osama nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I peeped Karma earlier today. She ain't like the rest. Got a vibe that's a bit different. But we'll see how it goes. Ain't no need to rush it."

Dudeylo, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. "As long as they stay true, I'm cool with it. Ain't tryna waste time on nobody who ain't real."

The crew laughed and continued to hang out, their conversation drifting between school, music, and the usual block talk. The night was young, and the block was their domain, a place where they could unwind and speak their minds without restraint.

As the hours passed, the chill in the air deepened, but the OY gang remained out, vibing and talking, their laughter and chatter echoing through the streets of Sugarhill Harlem. The city was alive, and for DD and his crew, this was where they felt most at home.

The night stretched on, and the conversation on the block shifted as the crew continued to kick back. David, or DD Osama, leaned more comfortably against the car, his eyes reflecting the streetlights. The group was still buzzing from their earlier conversation.