Fat Black Rapper Novels & Stories

Father and son are both rude and dumb. Whitney looked down at Jimmy and said, “You rude boy! I told you not to call me fatty again! My name is Whitney not fatty!” Jimmy opened his mouth wide open just like his father had done earlier. “What! This...This...This is fatty!,” he exclaimed and then he turned to Maverick and cried out, “Dad! What did you do to fatty!? Bring fatty back right now!!! I want fatty!!!” Maverick was stunned by his sudden outburst while Whitney glared at the short rude boy.

The warehouse loomed graffiti-tagged, air thick with weed smoke and diesel exhaust. No one watching from her world, but eyes lurked in shadows here perfect. Door creaked open to dim light, the scent of leather and gun oil hitting her first. Rico lounged on a throne-like chair amid crates, black button-up open over inked chest, jeans slung low, a Glock casual on the side table. Late thirties, built like coiled steel, scar slicing his jaw, eyes dark predators. "Look at you, pretty accountant slut," he rumbled, voice gravel wrapped in command, not rising as she approached. "Kneel."

Thomas and make Vince suffer, let my revenge shake him to the core. * * * " Fatrez! Fatrez," Voices greeted me as I walked into class. What did I do this round? Was it my almost-red hair? " Fatbobo, fat bobo," won't they just keep quiet? Then they broke into a song that we sang during PPI, Editing the details. Uncaring Faaaatrez, uncaring Fatrez,, Uncaring Fatrez, what a wonder you are, We hate you so much, uncaring Fatrez

(Kindly note, the asterisks placed before and after a sentence,signifies the background song lyrics) ~Fuck me like you hate me~ -Drake “You were so bad ass! I just watched the video on YouTube, how you deadpan refuted ShawnLama’s love confession to you. I want to be happy for you but how dare you do that? Its cool but to hell with cool sis! Its freaking ShawnLama plus wide-eyed right now!!! Son of Angoteh!! A freaking multimillionaire!

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Fatty said and Leah paused. "His money?" Leah asked. "Yeah...that loser is filthy rich but still a loser. If I was in his place I wouldn't be like him." Fatty said, shocking Leah even more. Igneel filthy rich? Aren't filthy rich people like Tobias? Spoiled? He is different.

"Oh! My nigga." That was Bad voice coming from the inside. He opened the gate and embraced me warmly. Bad was quite a chubby guy; about 5.6 feet tall, dark in complexion and he was always on a total shaved head, chin, cheeks, and upper lip. "How are you doing bruh?" "I am good fam. Um! Can you please Let off me? I am not some kinda bitch." "You my bitch motherfucker." "Fuck you, Bad get off me."

As if my existence was the inconvenience. "Look, look at you Annabel," he said, flat like I meant nothing "I can't even point out the correct word to describe you" Then Lennon's voice floated over, sweet as something rotten dipped in sugar. "I think the word you're looking for is fat, Alpha, I'm I right sis." The hall went absolutely silent. Aldric's face cleared. He seized on it the way a drowning man seizes a rope. "She's a fat cow," he said. Simply. Cleanly. Like he was reading something off a list. "I'm not taking a fat cow as my Luna. Neither will I take her into my bed."

She fired back by calling him with what he doesn't like. "What did you just call me?" He squinted his eyes on her and placed both of his hands on his chubby hips. "Did I heard you call me fatso?" He asked once again, towering over her height. "So what? What are you going to do about it? You're starting to pick a fight with someone older than you, remember, I can definitely break you arm with just one move, FATSO." She repeated the offensive word while pointing a finger on him. Reminding him how she's years older than him.

“Aren’t you, like, a fraudster billionaire? Why don’t you have your own place here?” “Now I see…” Raphael said, fixing his hair. He looked fresh, like he’d just stepped out of the shower, while Fatima, if not for the mint gum she’d chewed, would have had morning breath. She’d come straight here without even brushing her teeth. “You might look like Isabella, be smart like her… but you’re not street-smart.” “Is that an insult?” Fatima asked. He sounded so cocky, just like Ian. “How do you insult the person driving you?”