Acrimony: ill-will, rancor, ill-intent, rage, & anger.

The vibrations from he music reverberated through my chest. Under the influence, my movements were lazy and halfhearted, but hype none the less. I don't know what to call it.

The beat roared past the stage and through the erratic crowd. Feet shaking from the reverberating bass, my steps faltered slightly from left to right from time to time. I don't know what to call it.

Low tinted eyes, belonging to me, drifted over the crowd as they oozed anticipation for me to just open. my. mouth.

The crowd; all naive to the world around them only wanting, in that moment, to hear me. After a few more jigs to the beat, I lifted the mic.

"On that ruthless shit you don't know know how I'm livin'! Don't fuck wit school, my people tell me that I'm ig-nant." Adrenaline coursing through me, I fixate the mic towards the crowd letting them belt out the next few lyrics.

"And you know I'm divin' head first, i gotta choppa, step to me and bitch i let it work, won't be no stoppin'." The whole room was alive; every inch moved at the beats command; at my voices command.

A hand tugged at my ankle as I amped the crowd. Looking down, a faceless female clung to me, with what I'm guessing to be here equally single friend, in tow.

Mindlessly i kicked free of her grip and rotated to the other end of the stage. This has become my normal; fast cars, fast broads, nasty niggas, dirty money, and a forty widda dick.

I don't know what to call it, but i do know how to explain it. My name is Katiyana Johnson; widely known as, October. Seventeen years old, Double G in front my title, and on my hood, more stripes than the navy.

We are going to take a trip back. Back before the glory, back when I was just a project baby learning to run before i crawled.

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