out. If the alarm was on, I would just snatch his ass up and continue the job somewhere else. Either way, this was his last day breathin’. My anger was so built up. I wanted to just blast his ass, but I had to remember how much he’d hurt my family, so his death had to be slow and painful. There wasn’t even a need for maskin’ up because I wanted the punk muthafucka to see my face. This nigga was going to pay.
When we reached the basement door, I looked at Rico. “Have you seen any activity in the house since you been posted up?” I asked in a low tone.
“Yeah, his niggas left about an hour ago, so he should be alone if his bitch not in there,” Rico replied. It was hard for him to speak in a low voice since his shit was so deep.
“No, she’s not here. I just called her,” I replied.
“Then we’re straight,” Rico said just before Carlos pulled out a mini flashlight, along wit’ a tension wrench and began to pick the lock. Luckily, Trixie didn’t have one of those slidin’ glass doors because we would’ve had to break the window, which was the plan if all else failed. However, Carlos was a beast when it came to locks. Not only had he started stealin’ cars at the age of twelve, but he also had been caught as a juvenile on several breakin’ and enterin’ charges. All that changed when Carlos got into the drug game, but he still had his skills.
A few moments later, we heard a click, and Carlos immediately spoke up. “Bingo.” It didn’t take long for him to slowly turn the doorknob and open the door. To our surprise, an alarm didn’t go off, which made shit even smoother.
We started up the steps from the basement and ended up in the kitchen. You could smell the aroma of weed and cheap-ass dollar store air freshers throughout the house, which was so disrespectful for a crib in the suburbs. You can take the nigga out the hood, but can’t take the hood out the nigga, I thought to myself as Rico, Carlos, and I moved through the kitchen to the foyer. We listened closely before we approached the carpeted stairs that led to the top floor.
Glancin’ to my left on the wall was a nearly nude photo of Trixie that all three of us stared at. Damn, why does Trixie’s dumb-ass have a picture like that downstairs instead of in her bedroom? I could never make a bitch like that my girl. How did I let her stay around for so long anyway? I thought. No matter how good her pussy was, I vowed to never fuck that hot-ass bitch again. It was time to move on.
Hearin’ the loud music from upstairs, we had a feelin’ that’s where the nigga was, so we didn’t waste time headin’ that way. Wit’ all of our guns drawn, we went straight into the master bedroom then stopped when we heard Mike on the phone in the bathroom orderin’ tickets to Jay-Z’s show at the Verizon Center.
“Yeah, Nikki, I need you to order me two tickets on the front row, ya dig. My bitch gotta be front in center, she love that nigga Jay.” I could tell he was takin’ a pull from his blunt because his voice got extremely hoarse like he was about to choke. “Put it on yo’ credit card and I’ll bring you the money later on. Man, that’s my wifey. I’ll give you some extra money, damn!”
We stood in position in case he was about to make his way downstairs. However, the more we waited for the right time to get at his ass the more pissed off I got, but Carlos shot me a look, that said be easy, so I did. A few seconds later, we heard the shower runnin’ and then he started to sing, so at that point I knew we had to go in after him. As we all moved upstairs, Carlos adjusted the backpack on his shoulder that contained all the shit we needed to torture Mike’s ass as the music and singin’ got even louder.
Mike blasted Young Jeezy. “Let’s talk about money cuz I get a lot of it, I get a lot of it,” he sung as I heard the shower curtain close. “Twist my fingas tho up my hood. Let’s get this money, I know I would, I know that’s
When we reached the basement door, I looked at Rico. “Have you seen any activity in the house since you been posted up?” I asked in a low tone.
“Yeah, his niggas left about an hour ago, so he should be alone if his bitch not in there,” Rico replied. It was hard for him to speak in a low voice since his shit was so deep.
“No, she’s not here. I just called her,” I replied.
“Then we’re straight,” Rico said just before Carlos pulled out a mini flashlight, along wit’ a tension wrench and began to pick the lock. Luckily, Trixie didn’t have one of those slidin’ glass doors because we would’ve had to break the window, which was the plan if all else failed. However, Carlos was a beast when it came to locks. Not only had he started stealin’ cars at the age of twelve, but he also had been caught as a juvenile on several breakin’ and enterin’ charges. All that changed when Carlos got into the drug game, but he still had his skills.
A few moments later, we heard a click, and Carlos immediately spoke up. “Bingo.” It didn’t take long for him to slowly turn the doorknob and open the door. To our surprise, an alarm didn’t go off, which made shit even smoother.
We started up the steps from the basement and ended up in the kitchen. You could smell the aroma of weed and cheap-ass dollar store air freshers throughout the house, which was so disrespectful for a crib in the suburbs. You can take the nigga out the hood, but can’t take the hood out the nigga, I thought to myself as Rico, Carlos, and I moved through the kitchen to the foyer. We listened closely before we approached the carpeted stairs that led to the top floor.
Glancin’ to my left on the wall was a nearly nude photo of Trixie that all three of us stared at. Damn, why does Trixie’s dumb-ass have a picture like that downstairs instead of in her bedroom? I could never make a bitch like that my girl. How did I let her stay around for so long anyway? I thought. No matter how good her pussy was, I vowed to never fuck that hot-ass bitch again. It was time to move on.
Hearin’ the loud music from upstairs, we had a feelin’ that’s where the nigga was, so we didn’t waste time headin’ that way. Wit’ all of our guns drawn, we went straight into the master bedroom then stopped when we heard Mike on the phone in the bathroom orderin’ tickets to Jay-Z’s show at the Verizon Center.
“Yeah, Nikki, I need you to order me two tickets on the front row, ya dig. My bitch gotta be front in center, she love that nigga Jay.” I could tell he was takin’ a pull from his blunt because his voice got extremely hoarse like he was about to choke. “Put it on yo’ credit card and I’ll bring you the money later on. Man, that’s my wifey. I’ll give you some extra money, damn!”
We stood in position in case he was about to make his way downstairs. However, the more we waited for the right time to get at his ass the more pissed off I got, but Carlos shot me a look, that said be easy, so I did. A few seconds later, we heard the shower runnin’ and then he started to sing, so at that point I knew we had to go in after him. As we all moved upstairs, Carlos adjusted the backpack on his shoulder that contained all the shit we needed to torture Mike’s ass as the music and singin’ got even louder.
Mike blasted Young Jeezy. “Let’s talk about money cuz I get a lot of it, I get a lot of it,” he sung as I heard the shower curtain close. “Twist my fingas tho up my hood. Let’s get this money, I know I would, I know that’s
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