D was killed in Texas after we broke up. Don't nobody know who did it. Aint that somethin' 'cause they know everything D ever did but don't nobody know who did him.
We was broke up but I still loved him. I was the woman who loved him first. He didn't have no mama that he ever knew or that ever knew him. I picked him when I was only fourteen years old and he was two years older than me.
That didn't make no nevermind to me 'caue I just knew Mama nim didn't understand and kept tellin' me I don't know nothin' 'bout no love and I tell her I did too know somethin' 'bout some love. Grandmama say I wasn't nothin' but hot in the pants and I needed my little butt whipped good but she the one didn't know nothin' 'bout no love. She the one had a husband and they didn't even sleep in the same bed or room together. I might notta known a whole lotta stuff about love, but I knew even way back then that a man and woman that called theyself married was supposed to sleep together in the same bed in the same room.
Maybe me and D didn't make it to forever but we shol did have a forever kinda love. Shoot, I would cut a muthafucka over D and he could count on that till the day he died. D just needed the streets and that whole life and no family could fit into that life with him, that's all. I didn't like it, but I understood. And we have a baby girl too! The streets couldn't fit into our family and D just wasn't the man he could look in the mirror and be proud of without 'em. So that was that and I packed up the house in Charlotte and came to Los Angeles.
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