βoγ. π¦πΎππ π±ππ
ββββββββββ
π ππ±π²π¬πͺπ°πΈ, π'ππ΅πΈπ¬π΄
MADE: @π ππ£ππ«π€π£π¬πππ
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Von was in the studio, posted in the corner with his hoodie low, pen tapping against the notebook in his hand. The beat knocked hard, but his mind wasnβt on the trackβit was on you. Youβd moved on with some new dude, and it had him tight. Every word he wrote spilled out like a warning, raw and heated, his thoughts bouncing between missing you and wanting to slide on your man.
He shook his head, smirking to himself like he couldnβt believe he was still stuck on you. βHow she gonβ act like I'm not better than this nigga?β he muttered, the pen digging into the page as his frustration poured out.