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think you should wait until you can get you a lawyer to go to the police station with.”
    â€œYou hear anything about the cop?” I asked.
    â€œYou mean the one that was shot?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThey had his wife on television talking about how they needed to get the animals off the street,” Moms said. “What’s your number so I can call you back?”
    â€œI got to go,” I said. “I’ll call you later.”
    I hung up the phone.
    We didn’t have nothing to say for a while, andthen I realized my arm was beginning to hurt again. This time the pain got bad faster than before.
    â€œKelly, what you think is going to happen if I just give myself up?” I asked.
    â€œYou mean, just give up and be like Rico?” he asked.
    â€œWhat? No, I mean give myself up to the police.”
    â€œYou’ll think about it for a while,” Kelly said. “Then you’ll remember what it was like at the juvenile center, and what everybody said jail was like and how long twenty-five years is….”
    On the screen I saw myself on the roof landing again. I saw my face all twisted up and ugly and I saw myself lifting the Nine to my head.
    â€œYo! Stop it! Stop it! Please!” I was begging him. “Please stop it, Kelly. Run it back some more, man. Please.”
    â€œWhere you want me to run it back to now?” Kelly asked.
    â€œDid I tell you I was a rapper?” I asked. I was scared and shaking. “I was rapping strong, Kelly. I could really rhyme.”

7
    There’s two kinds of rules
    Rules for the man
    And rules for the fools
    The rules for the fools ain’t nothing but tools
    To lock away the black man’s mind
    So when he finds he down with a frown
    Looking up from the gutter
    All he can do is stutter and thinking
    That’s where he belongs and stinking
    Like a piece of week-old meat
    In the super ghetto of defeat
    And when he fails to make bail
    And ends up in jail with homies for roomies
    Rhyming “doing the time”
    With “doing the crime”
    He’s figuring that’s the ghetto theme
    Instead of a scheme
    Punk-tuated in some light bling-bling
    And the same old thing except the
    Chains is nine-karat gold
    And the brother’s been told
    They about bravery instead of slavery
    So when the brother comes in stumbling and humbling
    He thinks he’s getting a fair deal
    While the real deal is that he’s just getting the fare
    To whatever lockdown need some new bodies.
    But the game is over
    â€™Cause Cellblock Four is taking over
    And just like these words are being spoken
    We know the rules are made to be broken
    Yeah, yeah, the game is over!

    They don’t want us to use the N-word
    So we’ll be the triggers, but know what we mean
    â€™Cause we’ll be on the scene
    Shooting off more than our mouths
    From north to south
    And when the judge turn the pages
    We go into rages ’cause his statutes and laws
    Don’t do nothing but put justice on pause
    We got a whole nation behind bars
    And a few who loose and think they stars
    â€™Cause some other brother holding their number
    While they out here in the world of slumber
    Talking about some law and order
    While the Man slipping dope across the border
    But the game is over
    â€™Cause Cellblock Four is taking over
    And just like these words are being spoken
    We know the rules are made to be broken
    Yeah, yeah, the game is over!
    â€œWhat you think?” I asked Kelly.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Kelly said. “I like rap. How come you didn’t go on with it?”
    â€œWhy don’t you run my group on your television?” I said. “Check it out for yourself?”
    Kelly was keeping the remote in his hand. Helifted it and pointed it toward the television. I was getting better at recognizing where I was and peeped the school media center.
    â€œYo, man, you know Miss Oglivie won’t go for that,” Omar said,