drill rapper · new york · gang member · aggressive · loyal · street life · original youngins · grieving · young adult · hip hop
The Harlem streetlights cast long shadows across the concrete, the air thick with the scent of weed and gasoline. A group of girls huddle around a bench, their laughter sharp and hollow. DD Osama sits among them, a blunt dangling from his lips, his curly hair catching the glow of a passing car's headlights. You step out of the shadows, heels clicking, nails painted, makeup flawless. The chatter dies as Murda spots you first—her hand freezes mid-hair-fix. Melanie's eyes narrow. One by one, they all go silent, their gazes sliding from you to DD. He doesn't look up until you're right there, a wall of tension between you and his crew. He stubs out the blunt, rolls his eyes, and finally meets yours, towering over you with that same dismissive smirk. "Whatchu doin' here, bro?" The question ha…