Cut Throat Mafia. Derrick Johnson
didn’t no one else she hung with work. So, they didn’t give a fuck about partying all day and all night. Mom Dukes ended up losing her job and all shit went downhill. The food was getting shorter, while the days were getting longer. His sister had to grow up fast because she had to watch their brother while he went out to find shit for them to eat. Their mother would go to the after hour spot for hours and forget all about them. When she did come home, she’d pass the fuck out from getting high and drinking.
Jamel was 12 years old now and his nose was starting to smell other shit than the little shit he was out there in the streets doing to take care of him and his siblings. One day, he sat outside fixing a flat tire on his bike and saw this kid counting some money. Jamel was tired of going into the stores and sticking chicken and pork chops down his pants and then being chased out. He couldn’t even go to any stores around his hood now because the owners were waiting on his black ass
The kid with the money looked kind of nerdy but Jamel wasn’t in any position to be making any type of choices. He needed this come up and he was going to get it when the right time presented itself. The kid went on to deliver his papers and Jamel jumped on his bike to follow him. Once he got to a house that Jamel felt he could get him at, he jumped at the chance. When the paperboy came down the stairs of the house, Jamel rushed him off top and punched him right in the eye. The boy hit the ground hard and Jamel said, “Give me that money. And if you don’t, I’m gone beat your punk ass.”
The boy was crying and Jamel didn’t care because didn’t no one care about him and the shit he was going through. He just wanted to get the money to put food in his family's mouths.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Give that boy his money back.”
It was some big dude who lived in the house they were at and he was coming down the porch towards him and the boy on the ground. Jamel had the money in his hands and tried to jump on the bike but the man grabbed his coat from the back and wouldn’t let him go and was talking about calling home. Jamel didn’t care about that; it was when he said something about the cops. So, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the rusty twenty five he had found and punched the nigga right in the stomach. The older person grabbed his shit and stumbled back into the yard.
“What the fuck you do that for you little bastard?”
Jamel got back on his bike and hurried down the street, almost getting hit by a car crossing 40th, but he kept his cool and made it back safe.
Jamel ran into his room, which was nothing but a fucken dump with shit all over it. Most of the shit wasn’t even his. He ran into the closet and counted his money in the dark. He had over eighty dollars and Jamel felt like he had about eight thousand in his hand. He came out into the living room where his mother was ironing some evening clothes and smoking on some of that good weed. He loved his mother with all his heart but she made some wrong moves in life and now they all were paying for it.
After their last Christmas of not getting anything, Jamel knew there was going to be some long sad years to come. To look at the sad faces on his sister and baby brother bothered him badly. Jamel knew he had to make a change and get it however he had to. Once he did make a way to generate some money, they would never live in poverty again.
“Boy, what were you doing in that room and what you got that smile for?” asked his mother.
Jamel said, “Ma! I wasn’t doing anything, can’t I have a smile on my face?”
His sister was at the table finishing her homework while his brother chased around the many flies that seemed to be the babysitter of the house at the time. Jamel said, “I’m about to go to the Compound and play with my friends over there, okay?”
His mother spun around with the joint hanging halfway out her mouth and said, “You make sure you’re not gone too long because I’m going out tonight and I want you to watch your sister and brother.”
He just walked out the door because he had things to do and had to find a way to make this little money work for him. Things one day would change for all of them and it would change best for him.
As me and Splif rode down the street I thought about what the fuck took place between us and Mongo. I couldn’t understand how Mongo went and raised the price up on us like he just met us. We’ve been dealing with him and his family for over four years and I brought his punk ass crazy cream. I was getting like twenty five to thirty bricks from him supplying my projects and other areas in the city. He had the game screwed up and he needed to be put in check.
“Stomach Pain, I got to raise the price up on you. Things are going kind of slow right now and I got to jump the prices.”
I stood there for a second thinking he was trying to play some type of game with me. “Ha Ha. Okay! Now, what did you call me all the way over here for?”
He said the same thing again and was dead serious this time. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and what he was trying to run on me.
We met the nigga at some house over on West 117th because we never met up at the same place twice in a row. When me and Splif got in the house this nigga Mongo was sitting on the couch with three bad Dominican bitches who were ready to do anything for him the one who answered the door and let us in was fine as hell. When she walked us into the living room, she went and sat on the edge of the couch. There had to be about 150 grams of coke on the table, which I knew was nose candy to get their party started.
I said, “What the fuck you talking about you’re raising the price on me? Nigga, I aint buying no little shit from you, I’m buying big shit.”
Mongo sat there just smiling at me with a neck full of gold chains like shit was funny. He said, “Stomach, watch your mouth and the way you talk in front of these ladies.”
Oh! Hell naw this pretty boy ass nigga’s trippen and he’s really trying to see how my shit spit. Splif stepped in and said, “What you want, man?”
Mongo was looking up at the ceiling trying to figure out a price and said, “I want twenty a brick and if shit gets tighter, it’ll be twenty-two a brick,”
I was mad as hell and Splif said, “Let me holla at my boy real quick and see what we come up with.” Mongo said, “Cool. But don’t take too long because I got shit to do.”
While saying that, Mongo had his hand up one of the girl's skirt letting his fingers do the walking, playing us like we were cold suckers. Me and Splif went in the hallway and I knew what I wanted to do before we even made it in there.
“Splif, let’s just lift this ho ass nigga off that couch and show this nigga he aint running shit but his mouth.”
I was hyped as hell and Splif had his finger up to his lips telling me to quiet up a bit. He said, “Yeah! I feel you, but what about our, connect and these nigga’s we supplying?”
I simmered down a bit and said, “Man, we got the money to bust other moves plus I got some other nigga’s who want our business. Splif, I ain't on it. I’m about to serve this nigga.”
Splif said nothing because he knew what type of cat I was. I worked too hard for mines and wasn’t no nigga going to play me out like no damn fiend.
We walked back into the living room where this ho ass nigga was at with these fine Island ho’s. I had the double action Ruger Super Red Hawk 454 Casull caliber against my spine and was ready to use it on Mongo.
“So, did y’all come up with something or do I have to take my business somewhere else?”
I looked at this nigga who was still up the girl's dress trying to still play us like suckers and I just piped on his bitch ass. Mongo froze up when he saw the pistol pointed in his direction and tried to act civil about the situation. “Hey! Hey! Hold up, Stomach, What’s this all about? I thought we were better than this,” as he started sliding his hands from under the girls dress, trying not to reveal the gun I already seen.
I never gave him the chance to do what his mind was trying to tell him and I fired the baby cannon. BOOM!