Momma — Erin Lee

Let's get a few THINGS straight. You made up your mind about me and my son Jimmie the day some prude, who got what she deserved, told you to. Silly you. Cause I'm not Beverly. And I'm not my son either. I'm Momma. And that's just gonna have to be good enough for you. Cause serial killers don't grow on trees, you know. You have to plant them.