and just a little glossy lipstick passed for makeup ’cause my face was already hot. I had washed my hair and let it air dry into a cloud of curly ringlets, then rubbed some Pink Oil Moisturizer on my hands and tossed it around until it shined. Julie at the nail shop had tightened up my tips in emerald polish with diamond-chip swirls. My toenails had the same awesome design, and my long, sexy bowlegs was killing them.
Bouncing out the lobby with my hips on high sway, I waved at Frank, the night doorman, and he tipped his hat my way. I wasn’t worried about him telling Uncle Swag a damn thing because me and Frank had an understanding. He understood not to open his fuckin’ mouth about all my coming and going, and I understood not to open my mouth about all his coming. In the building’s administration office. Late one night. All over my sixteen-year-old titties.
Dip was parked at the corner and waiting for me in his midnight-black Expedition with the chrome spinners.
“Get your fine Chinese ass up in here,” he said, showing his pretty pearly teeth.
I laughed. “How many damn times I gotta tell you I’m not Chinese, stupid.” I climbed up in the whip and crossed my legs, appreciating the way his eyes praised my curves.
“Yeah, baby. Whatever. Your eyes is chinky and your shit is tight every time I see you, girl. Chinese or Japanese, you a stunna for real.”
Traffic was heavy as Dip drove up the West Side Highway with the windows open and the music blasting. We passed a flask of rum back and forth between us, and when we got into Harlem the streets were live like it was the middle of the afternoon. Dip parked outside a corner candy store and took me around the back and upstairs to a large loft where there was a party going in full swing.
“Go get me a drink,” I told Dip, even though I was already high and half-drunk too. The air was thick with sticky green, blueberry, and Nestle smokes, all the smells mingling together as people chilled and got lifted.
“Yak,” I yelled at Dip’s back as he moved toward the bar. “Get me some Yak!”
The DJ was cutting up, playing a N.J.S. jam and the dance floor was rocking. I peeped all kinds of big-money rollers in the house, most of them chilling in booths and balling hard.
Dip took forever to get back with my drink and I smoked a vanilla honey dutchy while I was waiting for him. I had a feeling he was conducting some business, and when he came back the look in his eyes confirmed that he was holding some weight. I gulped down my drink and then Dip kissed me and took my hand and pushed his way out onto the packed dance area. My favorite club banger from the mixtape Gag Order was playing and I worked my hips and ass like I was starring in a video.
We next!
So line ’em up, nigga put ya titles up!
Can’t do it quite like this, we get it in then
We wreck!
N.J. N.J. N.J.S.!
Slow it down for these niggas let ’em catch they breath!
Yes! It’s R.A.W. still ducking them double U’s, still puffin that wonderful,
Chill in the hood comfortable
Yep!
Next up to bat,
Give ’em the Gag Order ’cause you niggas never know who’s next up to rat!
Runnin back homey, put it on rewind,
I know they mad ’cause they swag on decline
Pick a date, you get smashed on my free time,
Other than that, I’m in the lab on a deep grind
I’m a star, you been on the bench warming the wood up,
And when you slacked off and sat down, we stood up!
Yeah we up next so respect it nigga, we sending mixtapes back with rejection stickers!
Homey I’m bout to do my number, his shit whack, you wood, you move lumber,
I do this shit in my slumber!
We next!
So line ’em up, nigga put ya titles up!
Can’t do it quite like this, we get it in then
We wreck! N.J. N.J. N.J.S.!
Slow it down for these niggas let ’em catch they breath!
All my hard practice in front of the mirror musta been paying off ’cause I had niggas shook, ignoring their dance partners and focusing totally
Bouncing out the lobby with my hips on high sway, I waved at Frank, the night doorman, and he tipped his hat my way. I wasn’t worried about him telling Uncle Swag a damn thing because me and Frank had an understanding. He understood not to open his fuckin’ mouth about all my coming and going, and I understood not to open my mouth about all his coming. In the building’s administration office. Late one night. All over my sixteen-year-old titties.
Dip was parked at the corner and waiting for me in his midnight-black Expedition with the chrome spinners.
“Get your fine Chinese ass up in here,” he said, showing his pretty pearly teeth.
I laughed. “How many damn times I gotta tell you I’m not Chinese, stupid.” I climbed up in the whip and crossed my legs, appreciating the way his eyes praised my curves.
“Yeah, baby. Whatever. Your eyes is chinky and your shit is tight every time I see you, girl. Chinese or Japanese, you a stunna for real.”
Traffic was heavy as Dip drove up the West Side Highway with the windows open and the music blasting. We passed a flask of rum back and forth between us, and when we got into Harlem the streets were live like it was the middle of the afternoon. Dip parked outside a corner candy store and took me around the back and upstairs to a large loft where there was a party going in full swing.
“Go get me a drink,” I told Dip, even though I was already high and half-drunk too. The air was thick with sticky green, blueberry, and Nestle smokes, all the smells mingling together as people chilled and got lifted.
“Yak,” I yelled at Dip’s back as he moved toward the bar. “Get me some Yak!”
The DJ was cutting up, playing a N.J.S. jam and the dance floor was rocking. I peeped all kinds of big-money rollers in the house, most of them chilling in booths and balling hard.
Dip took forever to get back with my drink and I smoked a vanilla honey dutchy while I was waiting for him. I had a feeling he was conducting some business, and when he came back the look in his eyes confirmed that he was holding some weight. I gulped down my drink and then Dip kissed me and took my hand and pushed his way out onto the packed dance area. My favorite club banger from the mixtape Gag Order was playing and I worked my hips and ass like I was starring in a video.
We next!
So line ’em up, nigga put ya titles up!
Can’t do it quite like this, we get it in then
We wreck!
N.J. N.J. N.J.S.!
Slow it down for these niggas let ’em catch they breath!
Yes! It’s R.A.W. still ducking them double U’s, still puffin that wonderful,
Chill in the hood comfortable
Yep!
Next up to bat,
Give ’em the Gag Order ’cause you niggas never know who’s next up to rat!
Runnin back homey, put it on rewind,
I know they mad ’cause they swag on decline
Pick a date, you get smashed on my free time,
Other than that, I’m in the lab on a deep grind
I’m a star, you been on the bench warming the wood up,
And when you slacked off and sat down, we stood up!
Yeah we up next so respect it nigga, we sending mixtapes back with rejection stickers!
Homey I’m bout to do my number, his shit whack, you wood, you move lumber,
I do this shit in my slumber!
We next!
So line ’em up, nigga put ya titles up!
Can’t do it quite like this, we get it in then
We wreck! N.J. N.J. N.J.S.!
Slow it down for these niggas let ’em catch they breath!
All my hard practice in front of the mirror musta been paying off ’cause I had niggas shook, ignoring their dance partners and focusing totally
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