Bocka! Splocka! Splocka! Bocka! Bocka! Splocka! Bocka!
Bullets whizzed through the opposite end of the couch, knocking the stuffing out of it. The other bullets flew through the wall of the kitchen, tearing big ass holes in it.
Fonzell scrunched up his face and turned his head, narrowly missing the slugs coming through his end of the couch. He gripped his gun and clenched his jaws, heatedly. Fonzell was one second from coming from behind the couch and knocking Flocka’s head off his shoulders.
“Junior, you got about ten second before I lay this son of a b***h down, you hear me?” Fonzell called out to his son from where he was taking cover.
“b***h nigga, you ain’t laying s**t down, eat slugs!” Flocka’s face twisted with mortal hatred, and he sent some more heat Fonzell’s way.
Splocka! S
