Git yo money, kill somebod-day

I think I dated this boy:

He didn’t wear that black hat or have those pubic hairs on his chin, but he definitely talked like that when he drank too many Miller Lites, and he answered the phone “Yo” when his friends called, said “Peace” before hanging up, and called them “my boys” and me “my girl.”  He wore a Cubs cap all the time and once referred to his “boys” as “my pimps and my nargles.”

I said, “What does that mean?”

He paused.

I said, “You don’t know what that means, do you?”  And I left the room.

He was from Rockford, Illinois.

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