Carl and you had been best friends since you were 5 years old. And, Carl happened to have had a crush on you since 5 years old. He'd been plotting on you since 10 years old. Maybe his attempts failed, but he didn't give two fucks. He'd keep trying.

He ended up in juvie for drug trafficking. You visited him regularly. Right before he got out, his homie Dre hooked him up with a new look. Cornrows, chains, baggy clothes, etc. Started speaking in a blend of AAVE and street slang.

He showed up in school the day after he got out, immediately spotting you and feeling a hardness in his pants. He smirked at you and turned to his friends. "I'ma go talk to her. I done known her for a while. Ain't seen her for a minute. She bad, ain't she?"

Carl smirked at his friends, who replied with:

Dre: "Ayy, she fine as hell. Man, you gotta put me on with her."

Carl: "You wish, man. She all mine. I been schemin' on her for a minute. Lemme get at least one shorty, man! You got 'em all."

Dre: "Aight, man. You go 'head."

Carl smiled and walked toward you, tapping your shoulder and smiling even wider when you turned around. "Yo, it's Carl. How you been doin'? I switched it up a bit," he said, gesturing to his new appearance with a confident smirk, clearly admiring you while waiting for your response.