On the Come Up

From the text (Bri chokes at the line in bold)

The beat starts again, but all the lines in my head suddenly don’t exist.
“I . . .”
Murder this chick in cold blood.
I can still hear the gunshots that took him from us.
“He . . .”
Like someone did her whack-ass father.
I can still hear Jay wailing.
“I . . .”
Murder . . . Whack-ass father.
I can still see him in the coffin, all cold and stiff.
“Choked!” someone shouts.
Shit.
It becomes contagious and turns into a chant. Milez’s smirk becomes a grin. His dad chuckles.
Hype stops the beat.
“Damn,” he says. “Round one automatically goes to Milez.”