Now if I slap the fuck outta you, I’mma be raw. Bitch, you better call me now. You know I’m crazy. You got five seconds to pick up a damn pen, pencil, marker, crayon, some type of lead, hit a motherfuckin’ paper, tissue, soap, something. Send a sign from God. Wish upon the damn stars. Oh my God, I’m finna cuss your stupid ass out soon as you call me. I ain’t heard from you since last week. Like, the fuck going on? Are you okay? And if you is, and just not calling me, I will slap you smooth the fuck outta your Nikes. I wish I could slap you so hard. Your ass is grass and I’m the lawnmower. Bitch, why the fuck haven’t you called me? I’mma fucking flip my wig if you don’t call me in the next three days. So by Saturday. Or I promise, I promise bitch, I’mma beat you up.