to get deported right back to Jamaica, bitch! I know
you here illegally, I’m the one fucking pimping you!!
What’s up now??”
Titus tried to stop me from stomping on her. I did what
any black woman who was being disrespected would do: I
straight punched him in the mouth.
Tiffany: “DON’T YOU TOUCH ME, NIGGA! I WILL
KILL YOU!”
Titus: “Why you tripping???”
I just started going berserk. I was drunk as hell on 211,
screaming at the top of my lungs, Bertha was crying, Titus
was screaming, I was throwing furniture—it was for-real
black woman craziness.
ͳen his homeboy picked me up from behind and
carried me out the house to my car.
Needless to say, I stopped talking to Bertha after that. I
had no more words for her. ͳat’s how I stopped pimping
her.
Maybe two months later, Titus showed up to my house
with a ring, asking would I marry him. He had put rose
petals all over my car in the shape of a heart and a bunch
more all over my yard.
Tiffany: “Are you fucking serious right now?”