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debt,” China confessed.
    â€œWhy don’t you mind ya muthafucking business?” B. T. turned on China.
    â€œThem stitches in the side of your head ain’t taught you nothing.” Top nodded toward the scar Lou-Loc had given him shortly
before his murder. “Either pay, cuz, or go head up for it, but ain’t gonna be no extra shit. That goes for both you muthafuckas.”
    B. T. sized Hollywood up and weighed his options. True, he owed the girl some money, but he wasn’t really feeling how Wood was coming at him. He had been down with the set longer, so he figured his seniority should’ve been respected in that right, but Hollywood was about his paper. He reasoned that he could take Hollywood in a fight, but if he lost he would’ve been embarrassed as well as wrong. Reluctantly B. T. reached into his pocket and gave Hollywood what he owed him.
    â€œNow, was that so hard?” Pop Top patted B. T. on his back. “Y’all niggaz always going at each other instead of dropping these dead rag chumps. You got the young boys showing you up.”
    â€œI heard Hook and them dropped some brims the other night?” China asked.
    â€œSquare biz,” Top confirmed.
    â€œThat nigga Gutter got this shit like the Wild West. Soon we ain’t gonna have nobody to bang on,” Hollywood joked.
    â€œSome niggaz know how to hold a grudge.” Top shrugged.
    â€œShit, he fucking up our paper.” B. T. snorted. “Police running all up and through the block and shit, how we supposed to sling?”
    â€œSame way you been doing it. With caution,” Top said. “Gutter gonna keep riding for his nigga until he gets it out of his system. I know it’s hard on y’all, but that’s how the homey wants it.”
    â€œMan, fuck that,” B. T. spat. “That nigga been dead how long? I’m trying to get money, fuck that ol’ mourning shit.”
    â€œWatch ya mouth, cuz.” Top glared at him. “That nigga you wolfing ’bout is a ghetto legend. I know you still salty over that ass-whipping, but you had it coming. Learn when to shut the fuck up!”
    B. T. was uptight, but he didn’t say anything. Awhile back he and
Lou-Loc had a dispute over his relationship with Satin. The end result was him getting pistol-whipped and stripped of his rank on the set. He had tried to have the assassin murdered, but his people were sent back in bags. Before B. T. could make a second attempt, someone blew Lou-Loc’s brains out.
    â€œWell”—Hollywood popped his collar—“I’d love to stay and chat with you fellas, but I got some new pussy to sample. Nice doing business with you, B. T.” Hollywood winked at him and went to join the young lady waiting in his car.

chapter 4
    â€œLOOK AT this shit,” Ruby said, slapping a copy of the New York Post down on the table. Highlighted in the corner was an article about a gang-related shooting in Harlem. “Three more soldiers gone. These crabs is getting out of hand.”
    â€œRelax,” Supreme said, tearing into a piece of chicken. “Their little run is gonna come to an end soon enough.” Supreme was a chunky cat who wore his hair in braids. The sleeves of his red shirt were rolled up slightly, advertising the iced-out watch on his right arm. He commanded a small army of soldiers from Hillside, Queens, that had been called in to lend aid against the rival set. Supreme and his soldiers had proven to be efficient killers, and were respected even by the Crips.
    â€œI don’t see it,” she continued. “We’ve been dancing in place for damn near three years and we’re still getting our asses kicked. Then that stupid little fuck Cisco stirs up all this shit. ‘Once Lou-Loc is gone, Harlem will be wide-open.’ Bullshit. What we went through with him was like a light slap on the ass
compared to what Gutter is putting down. He took that shit