sittin up as you put yo hair in a bun, you throw on nasir’s oversized shirt n his baggy shorts, slippin into yo stitch slippers

“bae, cmon, i need more plan b’s.” you softly say, rubbin yo eyes as you looked at nasir who let out a low groan

“do we have too?” he lowly whines, sittin up. you look at dis nigga like he jus told you souljah boy was runnin fa president causin him ta roll his eyes as he threw on one of his hoodies n sweats, white socks n black slides on

he grabs his car keys n wallet, lettin you walk ahead of him

“you really needa stop killin ma babies.” he lowly says, walkin down da stairs