Claire

“That’s when I learned that when people die, they sometimes take the living with them.”
― Angie Thomas, On the Come Up

“Sometimes I say things I don't mean, just so I don't have to say the things I do mean. Or sometimes I say exactly what I mean, and it still comes out all wrong. So sometimes I don't say anything at all.”
― Misa Sugiura, It's Not Like It's a Secret

“My apologies, see, I forgot my manners.
I get on the mic ’cause it’s my life. You show off for girls and cameras.
You a pop star, not a rapper. A Vanilla Ice or a Hammer.
Y’all hear this crap he dumping out? Somebody get him a Pamper.
And a crown for me. The best have heard about me.
You can only spell “brilliant” by first spelling Bri.
You see, naturally, I do my shit with perfection.
Better call a bodyguard ’cause you gon’ need some protection,
And on this here election, the people crown a new leader.
You didn’t see this coming, and your ghostwriters didn’t either.
I came here to ether. I’m sorry to do this to you.
This is no longer a battle, it’s your funeral, boo. I’m murdering you.
On my corner they call me coroner, I’m warning ya.
Tell the truth, this dude is borin’ ya.
You confused like a foreigner. I’ll explain with ease:
You’re just a casualty in the reality of the madness of Bri.
No fallacies, I spit maladies, causin’ fatalities,
And do it casually, damaging rappers without bandaging.
Imagining managing my own label, my own salary.
And actually, factually, there’s no MC that’s as bad as me.
Milez? That’s cute. But it don’t make me cower.
I move at light speed, you stuck at per hour.
You spit like a lisp. I spit like a high power.
Bri’s the future, and you Today like Matt Lauer.
You coward. But you’re a G? It ain’t convincing to me.
You talk about your clothes, about your shopping sprees.
You talk about your Glock, about your i-c-e.
But in this here ring, they all talking ’bout me,
Bri!”
― Angie Thomas, On the Come Up

“It’s not logical for a bird to be that big,” I bite out. Really, it’s not. Tweety Bird? The love of my life. Big Bird? I don’t trust that ho. Plus, have they seen his nest? He probably hides bodies in it.”
― Angie Thomas, On the Come Up