There is an old white lady standing in front of him asking him what Swag means. Like she can’t see it. She asks why he keeps the stickers on his hat and why his pants hang off his ass. She says ass like she’s embarrassed to say it or something. It’s his swag, he tells her. The girls like it, he says. His brother laughs. Only ghetto girls like that, he says. You don’t want them girls. They crazy. The old white lady don’t know the difference between swag and ghetto. You don’t know, his brother says. He punches him in the arm. Gimme some of your Big Shot. He drinks the cool sugar liquid and leans against the neighbor’s car. Swag, he says.
