who the f–k y’all talking to / I’m Alabama, get to know me, I might spaz on you,” went the lyrics. “Treat me like your mama, drip me out in some designer, ice me out like boy, I’m wildin’ / You know the type of ...
but I can tell from the way it feels that she is in another place away from all of us, a place where she can deal with her own singular universe without having to be concerned for what’s happening on our block, in our world, in our family. She feels very real while I am hugging...