Jason Myers - Run the Game: Chapter 1 lyrics

The first time I see her, she's on one knee,tying her shoe in the A-Lot, next to a lamppost, and I'm stepping out of this guy's car with thirty dollars in all fives. He says something while I do this, but I don't pay it any mind and he drives away. The girl looks up at me and smiles. She's supercute and sh**. I stuff the cash in my pocket. She's wearing a jean skirt with a Blondie patch, a yellow-and-blue splattered shirt with the sleeves cut off, and black Chuck Taylors with no socks, the shoelaces obviously untied, but she's getting them there. This is the order I always take people in. Face. Clothes. Features. She has oily black hair that's cut into a she-mullet with two lines shaved into the right side of her head. She's got freckles and decent-sized tits and a slim waist from what I can tell. It's late in the summer but she's pretty pale, just like I am, and her eyes are big and brown. She stands up as I'm lighting a Pall Mall 100, and I notice that her knees are scuffed red. Features. "You got one of those for me, man?" she asks, her voice low and raspy, like she's been drinking and smoking for years, even though she only looks maybe sixteen. "Sure," I answer, sliding out a second one and handing it to her. "Give me a light, too, please?" "Yeah." I hold the lighter to the end of her cigarette. "What are you doing out here anyway?" "Enjoying this amazing weather." I make a face. "Huh?" "Come on, man. I just got dropped off, like you." "sh**," I say, tucking the smokes and lighter into the pocked of my sleeveless red-and-black-plaid shirt. "How old are you?" "Why do you care?" "I don't really. You just look a little young to be doing what you're doing." She shrugs and rolls her eyes. "And you look a little too much like a boy who digs chicks to be doing what you're doing." "I need the money," I say. "That bad you need the money?" I glance quickly at the track marks on my arms and the back to her. "That bad," I go. "I see." Pause. "Is that h**n you shoot into them holes?" she asks. "Kinda." She laughs. "Kinda, dude?" "It's mostly straight coke, sometimes speedballs. Those are my poisons." "That sh** will make you go crazy." I take a drag and exhale. "f**ing life will make you go crazy. This just makes it more interesting." She grins and smoke flows out of her nostrils. "I get it." "So how old are you?" "How old do you think I am?" "Sixteen." She shakes her head. "Wrong." "Higher or lower?" She turns her thumb down. "Fifteen," I say. "Wrong again, man." "Fourteen?" She nods. "Jesus," I say. "Ain't you--" She cuts me off. "Ain't I what?" she snorts. "Ain't you really superyoung to be kicking it around the A-Lot?" "Not the way I see it," she answers.