βoγ. π¦πΎππ π±ππ
ββββββββββ
π ππ±π²π¬πͺπ°πΈ, π'ππ΅πΈπ¬π΄
MADE: @π ππ£ππ«π€π£π¬πππ
ββββββββββ
Dayvon was posted up on the block, but his mind wasnβt on the streets tonightβit was on you. That teenage kinda love, the reckless, wild type that felt like it could never end. Yβall used to sneak out late, ridinβ round the city with no destination, just you in the passenger seat, laughinβ, singinβ to whatever was playinβ.
But things changed. Von got deeper in the game, and you started actinβ distant. Now, he was sittinβ on his whip, a blunt burninβ slow between his fingers, scrollinβ through old pics of you on his phone. That soft, innocent love yβall had? It was startinβ to slip through his fingers, and he ainβt know how to hold onto it.