You see, the thing they never tell you about jersey chasing is that ironically enough it's going to come back around and catch up with you. It's all good when people start recognizing you based solely off of the infinitely more famous dick you happen to be sucking. Not so good when you spurn that dick - in preposterously public fashion - for a lesser known dick and now even the people that pay to see your shows (more likely the shows that you just happen to be opening for) just know you as a cheating whore with a very forgettable catalogue. Must be pretty sobering to be on stage in the pouring rain performing to a bunch of people - that barely cared when your "suicide" attempt was unsuccessful - while they berate you with chants of your ex-boyfriend's name. I bet if Kehlani knew this is how things were going to play out when she started fucking her way to fame then she would have mixed a bartender or two into her dating resume. Talented or not, this poor girl is forever going to known as a promiscuous little vixen that let her infidelity with a pro basketball player get broadcasted via the Instagram account of a bum ass singer named 'Party Next Door'. Might as well just change her name now. I probably already forget what she looks like up close but if I hear someone say "Kehlani" I am going to repeatedly scream "Kyrie" too.