fast.”
“What?” Xan chuckled. “You smell that kinda drive on a bitch like Riff?” He glanced at the tall, light-skinned kid, then squirted spit through his teeth and pushed his hands into his pockets. “I can’t see it, but cool. Fuck that nigga too. Do what you gotta do, lil man. Just watch your back.”
It didn’t take Riff long to step outta line and when he did, Hood was ready.
Less than a month after assuming command of his territory, Hood watched the streets from the window of an abandoned apartment across from Jerri’s Liquor Shop. Earlier in the day he’d peeped Riff talking on the low to a cat from Ocean Hill who rolled heavy with that rival nigga Chaos. The two had gotten into a dark blue sports car and headed up toward Pitken Avenue. After some long thought, Hood found a spot where he had a good vantage point and made his way into an abandoned building. He sat in the busted-out window for over two hours until he saw the little sports car come rolling back down the avenue again.
Hood scrambled downstairs and waited as Riff stepped outta the enemy’s car looking warm and happy, then he went straight to that ass right up on the avenue. Right where every nigga in town could see. He banged Riff in the forehead with the butt of his Sig, then beat him down just like he was a pimp cracking a ho for coming up short on her bank.
“That’s right, boss,” Dreko yelled out loud as Hood gun-cracked Riff all over his head. Riff had people in the game and his family name rang bells on the streets, but just like Hood, Dreko had no fear of their get back. His gat was comfortable in his hand as he stared down a couple of Riff’s boys with menace and murder in his eyes.
“Gone and put that bitch-ass nigga in check, Hood. We can take this shit to war with an army of two right here, right now. Any one of these boys feel like battling and I’ll grab him and gun-beat his ass down too.”
After that bloody incident Hood’s leadership and Dreko’s loyalty was never challenged again. Not up close, anyway. Hood was a hard-body soldier and ran his small crew with such authority that even grown-ass dealers had to give it up to him because the nigga was street buff to his core. He was principled, though, despite the harshness of his young life. He forbid his crew to conduct transactions if there was a kid in sight, and demanded they respect the elderly at all times. It was nothing to see him strolling down the block pushing a shopping cart full of food for somebody’s moms in the projects, and when the work was done and it was time to play, the child in him came out and he flexed his thumbs and reigned surpreme on every action-packed video game on the market.
But when it came to moving his product and collecting his doe, Hood didn’t give up shit. Niggas on his block couldn’t get no credit, no sympathy, no nothing. And as they found out from his dealings with Riff, who ended up in a brief coma for riding with the enemy, they couldn’t even get no second chances.
But while Riff was a minor annoyance, much more than Hood’s coldhearted reputation had been tested on that day. His soft spot had got mashed up too, and in the worst way possible for a gangsta. Hood had been so furious behind Riff bringing one of Chaos’s boys on the block that he probably would have ended it all and beaten Riff to death right there on the street if somebody hadn’t called out his name and frozen his hand.
“Monty! Stop that fighting, Monty! You got any money, Monty?”
Hood was on one knee, his fists slick with Riff’s blood, his sleeves soaked red up to his elbows. Niggas was standing with their backs up against the building giving him room to put in work, and when the bony, light-skinned lady wearing a million fuckin buttons on her jacket ran across the street begging for money, Hood had stood up breathing hard, shook.
“Hey baby you got something for me, huh?”
Whenever he bumped into his moms it was painful, and this
“What?” Xan chuckled. “You smell that kinda drive on a bitch like Riff?” He glanced at the tall, light-skinned kid, then squirted spit through his teeth and pushed his hands into his pockets. “I can’t see it, but cool. Fuck that nigga too. Do what you gotta do, lil man. Just watch your back.”
It didn’t take Riff long to step outta line and when he did, Hood was ready.
Less than a month after assuming command of his territory, Hood watched the streets from the window of an abandoned apartment across from Jerri’s Liquor Shop. Earlier in the day he’d peeped Riff talking on the low to a cat from Ocean Hill who rolled heavy with that rival nigga Chaos. The two had gotten into a dark blue sports car and headed up toward Pitken Avenue. After some long thought, Hood found a spot where he had a good vantage point and made his way into an abandoned building. He sat in the busted-out window for over two hours until he saw the little sports car come rolling back down the avenue again.
Hood scrambled downstairs and waited as Riff stepped outta the enemy’s car looking warm and happy, then he went straight to that ass right up on the avenue. Right where every nigga in town could see. He banged Riff in the forehead with the butt of his Sig, then beat him down just like he was a pimp cracking a ho for coming up short on her bank.
“That’s right, boss,” Dreko yelled out loud as Hood gun-cracked Riff all over his head. Riff had people in the game and his family name rang bells on the streets, but just like Hood, Dreko had no fear of their get back. His gat was comfortable in his hand as he stared down a couple of Riff’s boys with menace and murder in his eyes.
“Gone and put that bitch-ass nigga in check, Hood. We can take this shit to war with an army of two right here, right now. Any one of these boys feel like battling and I’ll grab him and gun-beat his ass down too.”
After that bloody incident Hood’s leadership and Dreko’s loyalty was never challenged again. Not up close, anyway. Hood was a hard-body soldier and ran his small crew with such authority that even grown-ass dealers had to give it up to him because the nigga was street buff to his core. He was principled, though, despite the harshness of his young life. He forbid his crew to conduct transactions if there was a kid in sight, and demanded they respect the elderly at all times. It was nothing to see him strolling down the block pushing a shopping cart full of food for somebody’s moms in the projects, and when the work was done and it was time to play, the child in him came out and he flexed his thumbs and reigned surpreme on every action-packed video game on the market.
But when it came to moving his product and collecting his doe, Hood didn’t give up shit. Niggas on his block couldn’t get no credit, no sympathy, no nothing. And as they found out from his dealings with Riff, who ended up in a brief coma for riding with the enemy, they couldn’t even get no second chances.
But while Riff was a minor annoyance, much more than Hood’s coldhearted reputation had been tested on that day. His soft spot had got mashed up too, and in the worst way possible for a gangsta. Hood had been so furious behind Riff bringing one of Chaos’s boys on the block that he probably would have ended it all and beaten Riff to death right there on the street if somebody hadn’t called out his name and frozen his hand.
“Monty! Stop that fighting, Monty! You got any money, Monty?”
Hood was on one knee, his fists slick with Riff’s blood, his sleeves soaked red up to his elbows. Niggas was standing with their backs up against the building giving him room to put in work, and when the bony, light-skinned lady wearing a million fuckin buttons on her jacket ran across the street begging for money, Hood had stood up breathing hard, shook.
“Hey baby you got something for me, huh?”
Whenever he bumped into his moms it was painful, and this
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