"Nigga if you want me to whoop yo ass just say dat." I stared at him.
"What did I even do to you?"
"Where was yo ass at?"
"Out wit the boys, why you trippin?"
"I just called all yo damn homeboys they said they ain't see you. So Ima ask again, where was you at? If I gotta ask again I gonna have to lay my hands on you."
"You don't have to, you choosing too."
I punched him in his face. "You gon talk now or I gotta actually whoop yo ass?"
"Guide damn, what the fuck wrong wit you?"
"Every motherfucking thing. Now you gon answer the question or not?"
"...."
I punched him again. "Don't forget you got dreads, I will drag yo ass."
"You gon stop putting yo hands on me."
"Do I gotta put a gun to yo head to get you to talk?" I reached in my drawer.
"Bruh stop, you playin too much."
"Does it look like I'm playin?" I grabbed the gun.
"Fine damn! I was at a club."
"That's all the shit you had to say. A strip club or a bar club?"
"Strip club."
I shook my head and laughing. "You think I'm a dumbass huh?"
"Nah."
"I'm trying not to pistol whip yo ass."
"I didn't do nothing but throw money, ain't even get no dances from a bitch."
"I feel like you lying to me right now."
"I swear I'm not."
"Mhm." I put the gun back in the drawer.
He sighed. "Don't know why I chose yo crazy ass." He mumbled.
