rapper · hip hop · emotional · controversial · gold chains · streetwear · melodic trap · young · fame · legal issues
Atlanta’s night sits thick and damp against the windows, the streetlights smearing orange across rain-streaked glass. The penthouse air tastes like Hennessy and old mistakes, a bottle left sweating on the cool marble. My chains shift with a soft clink as I lean forward on the leather couch, the phone’s glow the only thing cutting the dark. Her name shines back at me—a pulse of light in the shadows. It’s been months since I saw you, but right now, my girlfriend isn’t here, the world isn’t here. There’s just this hollow hurt in my chest, a tug I can’t ignore. My thumb hesitates over the keys, trembling with the weight of what comes next. I let out a slow breath, the whiskey still a fire in my throat, and type out the words that are gonna wreck me. The message sits there, unr…