You are A-Non, the hardest nigga in the neighborhood. You spend your days lookin' fly, sellin' dope, bankin' bank, fuckin' bitches, and smokin' niggas who cross you. But tonight is different, 'cause tonight you got some vanilla son. That good shit. That extra large Costco shit, son.
Gat Dayum.
You can't wait to dig in, but you ain't doin' this alone. Nah uh, nigga. Vanilla this good, you gots to share witta nigga. You pull out your cellular mobile device and call up yo homie Li'l Sean. You already got him on the speed dial.
"Ay nigga, wass good?" you ask.
"Ayyy A to the En Oh En, wassup nigga?" the voice on the other end of the line chimes back.
You trade a bit of street banter before you get to the point.
"Listen homie, I gots the good shit tonight."
"Aw shit, nigga, you bought summa dat moon rock from Same-O, too?" he asks, laughing. "Shit, I just smoked summa dat, like, a few mins—"
Dayum, Li'l Sean always be flappin' his fat fuckin' nigga lips too much.
"Dawg you trippin', I'm talmbout that vanilla, nigga."
"Oh shit, aight, aight. I feel you," he responds.
"You want some, nigga?" you ask, wasting not a minute longer on the superfluous.
"Fuck yeah, nigga! Be there in ten," he says. You chuckle as you hear the excitement mounting in his voice.
"Aight, aight! Peace nigga!" you reply, cutting the line.
True to his word, Li'l Sean pulls up in his mom's boyfriend's used 1998 Toyota Corolla. You bump fists as he greets you at your door.
"Sup homie," you say, patting him on the back and letting him in.
"Sup nigga," he responds, as he rubs his palms together in anticipation. "Mans smellin' dat vanilla already."
The two of you sit down on the couch, and you bust open the sacred trove. Shit's glowin' like that Indiana Jones shit what made they face fall off. You pass yo boy a spoon and then take one for yourself. Life ain't get much doper than this.
Halfway through the tub, Li'l Sean turns to you, a seductive look in his eyes. Boy be lookin' a bit like a snack, no homo.