by Anthony Lindsay
I hate rush jobs, but if dis ones goes like Tap says, it don't need much plannin'. Da punk ass nigga dat owns dis place is a crack head. He paged Tap dis mornin' fo two ozs. Tap's source is dry 'til tomorrow, but he told dis mark ass nigga he'd deliver first thang dis mornin'. It's gonna be a delivery awright. He's about to get a face full of Smith and Wessen. As soon as I hear dis here lock click, I'm pushin Tap's weak ass straight thru da doo' and puttin' it on Mr. Crack Head. He been buyin' from Tap like dis fo' months, so he won't be suspectin' shit. He opens da doo', Tap goes in and dey do dey bizniz. But today, dar is some shit in da game, me. Taps goin' in wid two bags of Gold Medal flower and I'm followin' him wid six brothers.
Tap thank he's gettin' a cut, he ain't gettin' a damn thang from me. He can come back here tomorrow and sell dis muthafucka two real ounces when his source is back on. Today is my payday. Tap shouldn't told me him and dis mark did bizniz. Shit, he ain't gonna wanna loose da mark. He ain't gonna say shit about knowin' me. He'll be a lil' salty but he ain't never had the heart fo' gun play, so fuck him.
I don't understand some people, dis mark runs a fancy ass clothin' store and keeps da back of da joint lookin' like shit. Ain't nobody swept back here in months. What will it cost him, two dollars to get some bum to sweep up back here? Da fuckin' dumster is reekin'. He must share it wid da Chinese place next do'. Dar go da click.
Mr. Crack Head on da flo' cryin like a lil' ole bitch. Tap right next to his ass tryin' to figure out whats goin' on. When da do opened, I shoved his light in da butt ass through and he knocked over Mr. Crack Head; so both dey asses on da flo. I'm thinkin' about puttin' one in Mr. Crack Head just to hear what he sound likes after he gets shot. I settle fo' kickin' him in da balls.
Mr. Crack Head hands the loot straight over. I ain't got no reason to kick him in da eye, but I do it anyway. I hate a whinnin' ass man. Tap lookin' up at me all curious and shit. I put da Smith and Wessen to his dome and mouth 'minez'. He don't like it but he got to accept it: just to help him out fo' later, I takes his two bags of Gold Medal flower. If he plays it right he can get the mark to pay him fo' 'em. On da way out I see half a rack of size fidty suites, I grab 'em all.
At da flats I'm in da shower feelin' damn good. All lotioned up and powdered down, I put on da new draws and undershirts I been savin. Fidty is my size, da suites fit me to da t.. I like da gray one wid da skinny stripes. I look like a muthafuckin' lawyer. Fo' real. All I needs is some of dem funny as shoes dey be wearin'. Dressed like dis here and I can go down town and stick muthafuckas up all day long. What time is it? Shit I'm on it, stop somewhere and get some of dem shoes and a brief case.
Fo' eyed shoe salesman called 'em wing tips. Damn dey feel good on my feet, dem squares got somethin' goin' on wid dese here shoes. Why dat bitch in da jewlery sto' smilin' at me thru da window? Hoe wavin' me in. Last week dis bitch didn't buz me in here. She leaves me wid three gold watches to look at and walks across da sto' to get anoda one.
Da sun is bouncin' off dis muthafucka. I see da reflection in da passin' cars. I'ma keep dis one. Da two I got in da brief case should brang me a couple hundred a piece. Shit I'm makin' money and ain't even pulled my piece. It's a couple of blocks between me and da jewlery sto'. I'ma stand here to catch my breath. Two people walk up, dey standin' behind me. Shit I'm standin' behind a muthafucker too. It's a line to a parkin' lot. Da square brother in front of me is dancin' from foot to foot, about to piss on hisself. Lookin' back at me he ask me to hold his spot, I shug sure.
Fuck dis I'ma go in and get me a muthafucka, it's got to be kinda dark in da garage. A lil' Arab muthafucka stickin' a ticket in my hand. Da bastard behind me nudgin' me to keep da line movin'. I'm stepin' up into a mothafuckin Jag. Da doo' is wide open and it's runnin'.
I'm puttin' dis muthafucka on da highway to somewhere. I got da loot from dis morinin' in my pockect. Why not take a trip? I'm lookin' like a lawyer, might as well act like one. Will I go south or east on da green light?
Damn, I feel it. I ain't even got to look. I know it's a .45 at my dome. Da muthafucka is orderin' me out of da Jag. He's callin' me a rich ass mothufucka. Aw shit, I know dis nigga but he don't recognize me. All he sees is dis here car and clothes and shit. I'm callin' his name . Damn dats a mista.....