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Tyrone really thinks he might cry. Thank god for his sunglasses—he doesn’t want to cry in front of Yung Dab, and especially not in front of Pimp. He’s already been slapped thrice today.
“You really want to sign me, Mr. Yung Dab?” OTT practically squeaks, voice brimming with hope. He can’t believe it.
“Uhh,” Yung Dab looks up from his phone. Tyrone kind of wants to tell him not to text and drive, but he’s a fucking legend . He knows best. “Yeah, uh, sure. Hey, you ever robbed a bank before?”
OTT’s subsequent sobs of happiness are perfectly auto-tuned.