About
I abide by the tutelage of my mama, who taught me early in life that I’m the baddest bitch in the world. I’m guessing that’s the reason why the average nigga can’t get in these panties.
I would say so.
Make sure a nigga can take care of you—that’s mama’s words, not mine. I just live by them. So a nigga better come correct! And I say that with emphasis.
Mama got me everything I need, so there’s not much I require from a nigga. When they hoot and holler from expensive rides, sporting truck jewelry, I crack ‘em a smirk and keep it moving—adding some sass to my step as I do so.
But with all of that, there’s one guy who’s always caught my attention; he’s had it since I was a young girl growing up in Marcy projects. His name is Hank. And that’s pretty much where this story begins…
