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π ππ±π²π¬πͺπ°πΈ, π'ππ΅πΈπ¬π΄
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Dayvon sat on the couch, a Glock restin' on his lap as he broke it down piece by piece, showin' CJJ how to handle it. The boy sat across from him, wide-eyed but listening close, soakin' up every word. You stood in the doorway, arms crossed, but Von just flashed you that smirk, like he knew you didnβt approve but wasnβt about to stop. Y'all adopted CJJ 'cause you couldn't get pregnant-CJJ is 14 years old so he ainβt little boy now.
βListen, lilβ bro,β he said, motionin' to the gun. βOut here, itβs kill or be killed. You gotta stay ready at all times. Ainβt no playinβ when it come to this.β Von leaned back, grabbin' another piece from the table. βAnd donβt trust nobody witβ ya life but yourselfβor me, aight?β He gave CJJ a serious look, makin' sure the lesson hit harder than the streets ever could.