Nicolette Facciponti’s mom gave me my first job handing out fragrance samples at Macy’s
Nicolette would pick me up in a Honda Accent with purple neon on the license plate and pink furry seats
She loved lip gloss, frappuccinos, and KTU
"I want the smaller ipad"
"Yeah, I want the bigger iPhone"
That’s my problem with fucking trap music: People are rapping about killing niggas and selling fucking drugs all day, but it sounds happy—that’s bullshit. That shit’s stressful: You’re not going to make no fucking money, somebody’s going to end up dead, and you’re not going to be able to pay for his funeral because his mom probably don’t fuck with him like that, and he don’t got health insurance. So now you have to do a fucking car wash to pay for somebody’s funeral and bury him in some cheap shit. Where’s that song?