And then there was this nigga named Fat Mack from City View. Fat Mack was a fat, black, ugly mothafucka with a lazy eye, and he had a stable full of bad bitches that would “put that money in his pocket like a rocket!” Nobody could understand how this fat, ugly ass nigga kept those quarter bitches on his team in check.
Whenever somebody on the outside looking in would pose the question as to how Fat Mack kept so many hoes breaking off that bread for him, he’d simply laugh, and say some fly shit like, “Nigga, either you pimpin’ or you simpin’. It was my fuckin’ destiny to live a pimp legacy! And I’d advise all you niggas to go get you a bottle of Heinz, ‘cause it’s gonna be a minute befo’ y’all “catch up” to any pimpin’ of mines!”
The list of hood stars and local celebrities present at Cleveland Park that Sunday went on and on. There was even a rumor that Kevin Garnett, who was originally from the Mauldin section of Greenville, might come through and show some love.
The potential for violence was always present when there were that many egos and ‘hood niggas in the same place at the same time, but for the most part everybody was just chilling. People were enjoying the weather and the overall atmosphere. There were even a few people cranking the grills up to barbeque. A few scuffles broke out here and there, but nothing that serious.
The ‘hood rats and gold diggers were also out in full force. They were wearing bikinis and short shorts that were all in the cracks of their hot asses, leaving little to the imagination of anybody who looked. They were competing with one another, trying to catch the attention of the young ballers, hoping to be elevated to that coveted role of wifey so they could experience what life was like in the fast lane. At least for however long the nigga they got with had their run, and stayed his ass outta jail. It could be a few years, months, or even weeks before those same niggas they were chasing behind were being chased by an indictment.
One of the most notable gold diggers on the scene that day was a girl named Abby. Abby was a straight schemer. Over the years, she’d set numerous niggas up for her boyfriends, and had even allowed them to rob places where she was employed. Her nickname in the street was Scams because there wasn’t a scam in the book she hadn’t tried. Everything from claiming kids that weren’t hers on her income taxes, to having kinky sex with her boss, taping it, and then using the tape to blackmail him for cash. She was a high yellow broad with hazel eyes, and a nice shape, but she was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. That’s what came along with the life of jumping from one hustler’s dick to another, and having unprotected sex with them. Abby had A.I.D.S. and knew it, but continued to recklessly suck and fuck niggas like it was nothing but a mild cold. She had infected lots of them with the deadly disease. Some nigga had given it to her, so she felt no remorse in returning the favor. She took the term “pay it forward” to another level. The dudes she infected would then turn around and have sex with their wives, girlfriends, and in some cases, men, steadily passing the disease along. And people wondered why A.I.D.S. had become an epidemic of such proportions in the Black community. Some mothafuckas were so ignorant.
$$$
There was a two way street that ran along side of the park. That was the strip, where niggas drove by as slow as possible, to make sure everybody got a good look at their candy painted box Chevy’s, Bubbles, and Donks sitting high on 26’s, 28’s, and even 30 inch rims.
At six o’clock, Ant D and Mike came through in Ant’s new ‘07 drop top, flip flop Corvette, and the game was officially over. The Vette was sitting on 21 inch chrome Giovanni rims in the back, and 20 inch Giovanni’s in the front, which gave it a mean stance. The rims were wrapped in low profile Pirelli tires. Nobody could really tell what color the car was because, depending on the angle you looked at it from, it appeared to be yellow, orange, or a light green hue.
Muh’fuckas were catching whiplash trying to peep the Vette, and the two young, fly ass niggas in it. Ant D pressed the play button on his iPod, which was hooked up to the stereo system in the car. Jeezy’s voice came blasting out of the speakers, and the trunk sounded like King Kong was in that mothafucka trying to get out!
“I’m a T-R-A-P S-T-A-R, got the city on lock, big shoes on the car, and she likes it…she likes it, she likes it…aayyyy!”
Ant turned the volume up even louder, acknowledging the hateful and envious stares that came from the crowd of spectators. The women were practically drooling and slobbering, like kids in the window of one of those little yellow school buses.
Ant and Mike knew niggas were hating from the sidelines, but fuck that. They came there to shine until they blinded muh’fuckas. And if somebody was stupid enough to try some dumb shit, they had a stash box in the car with two newly purchased, fully loaded pistols in it.
Ant pulled into the parking lot slowly. He was looking for a space to park but the lot was jam packed. Finally, Mike peeped somebody backing out of a spot. He got Ant’s attention, who then pulled into the parking space, and killed the ignition.
“Man, I can’t even believe this bullshit. Them hoes from the club wore my ass out last night, dog,” said Mike.
“Nigga, you ain’t playing. I ain’t never bust that many times in one night befo’. I thought I was gonna have to pop one of them lil’ blue smurfs to keep up wit’ them bitches,” Ant D laughed, referring to Viagra.
“Man, that little bitch Angel was a straight mutt, my nigga! I’m talkin’ ‘bout she was doin’ all that shit them porn stars be doin’ in them videos! I ain’t showed you the flicks?”
“Hell naw, you ain’t show me no pictures. Nigga, you was too busy tryna choke them bitches to death to show me any pictures,” Ant said, laughing and thinking back on that crazy ass scene from the hotel.
“Anyway, where they at?”
Mike looked confused. “Where what at?”
“The pictures you took, nigga!”
Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He went to the menu and clicked on the pictures. Just then, images of Angel with a face full of sperm came onto the small color screen. He handed the phone to his friend, and let him check it out. There were shots of Diamond kissing Chocolate, and them eating each other out. There were also shots of Diamond kissing both Chocolate and Angel. But when Ant got to the pictures of Angel blowing bubbles with the cum in her mouth, he went fool.
“Oh shit! Ooooooh shit! I knew I should’a kept that bitch Angel in the room with me, dog! This bitch is a straight animal.”
“What I tell you, nigga, huh?! You thought I was lyin’? That shit was crazy last night!”
They continued to reminisce animatedly on the previous nights’ sexual exploits without the thought ever crossing their minds that they had failed to use protection. Who wanted to think about catching a disease, and let alone talk about it, after a night of raw, nasty sex? Niggas tended to put shit like that out of their minds because they thought it couldn’t happen to them. But sometimes the price of one night of indiscretion could cost a person a lot more than they were willing to pay.
“Nigga, you see how them hoes was showin’ out?”
“Yeah, I see, nigga. I ain’t blind.” Ant D opened his car door, which went up like the doors on a Lamborghini. He tossed the phone back to Mike. “Come on nigga, let’s see who all out this bitch.”
“That’s what it is,” said Mike, as he opened the passenger side door and got out. As he was getting out of the car, he happened to glance to his left, and saw a group of four girls walking together. One of them was a girl by the name of Nikki Jones, who Mike used to go to Greenville High School with before he had dropped out a few years back. Mike had always wanted to holler at her, but back then he was just a nobody ass nigga, still committing petty crimes and getting kicked out of school every other week for fighting, and other bullshit. She used to be a cheerleader, and one of the smartest girls in the school. So Mike would often check her out from a distance when they were in class together, but he never got up the nerve to approach her. Today would be diffe
rent though.
“A yo, Ant, peep this here, my nigga. I just seen somebody I ain’t seen in a lil’ minute. I’m finna go holla at her real quick. I’ll get up wit’ you at the ball court.”
“Bet it up.” They gave each other quick pounds, and Ant D walked off towards the basketball court, which was on the other side of the park.
Mike approached the group of girls. “Excuse me for bothering y’all, but ain’t your name Nikki,” he asked, looking at the light skinned girl with the natural green eyes.
“Yes, my name is Nikki. Do I know you?”
“Naw, you don’t really know me like that, but my name is Mike. We used to go to Greenville together.”
“Oh yeah, I remember you now,” she said, with a slight smirk on her face. “You were the one who used to be fighting all the time, getting suspended.”
“Yeah, that was me,” said Mike, laughing. He was surprised that she even remembered him.
“Oh, my bad, Mike. These are my homegirls, Brandy, Vicki, and Nique.”
“What’s up y’all, what’s ‘hood?”
“Nothing much, just out here chillin’, and enjoying this good weather,” replied Brandy.
“Who was that dude that got out of the car with you? And was it his?” asked Vicki, like the true gold-digger she was.
“Oh yeah, that was my dog, Ant D. And of course that was his shit! We ain’t finna be ridin’ ‘round in nobody else shit like that.”
“Damn, where he went to?! I need to find his sexy ass! And he got money too?!”
“Ummm Mike, you’ve got to excuse my friend. She gets like that sometimes,” Nikki stated, looking pointedly at her friend. She was obviously embarrassed by Vicki’s comments.
“What?” Vicki asked innocently. “I can’t help it if I’m attracted to niggas wit’ paper. I damn sho’ don’t want no broke ass nigga that’s still livin’ wit’ his mama!”
“Like I said, Mike, you’ve got to excuse my homegirl.”
“That ain’t nothin’. I ain’t even really sweatin’ that right there. But if you don’t mind, Nikki, can I holla’ at you for a minute by yourself?”
“Sure, what’s up Mike?” Nikki asked, walking away from her friends with him.
After a short distance, Mike turned to Nikki and said, “Nikki, would it be a problem if I got yo’ number, so I can call and rap wit’ you for a minute?”
Nikki didn’t answer him at first, which had Mike thinking that either she hadn’t heard him, or was about to turn his ass down. He was getting ready to ask her again, but she replied after a few seconds. “No, that’s not a problem.” She gave him her number, and he saved it in his cell phone.
“What you gettin’ into tonight, after you leave the park?” Mike asked her.
“To be honest with you, Brandy was trying to get me to go with them to Escalade to see Jeezy perform, but I’ve got some stuff to do tomorrow. So I was thinking about just going home and getting some rest. Plus, I’m not really into the whole club scene. I got some studying I need to do for some exams I got coming up at school.”
“Where you goin’ to school at?” Mike inquired.
“I’m in Tech. I’m getting my degree in computer programming.”
“That’s what’s up, Nikki. I really respect a woman that’s pursuing her goals like that. But do me one favor.”
“It depends on what it is.”
“Come out to the club tonight and chill wit’ me.”
“I’ll think about it,” Nikki said, and walked off towards her friends.
Mike stood there for a minute, just admiring the sexy way her hips moved when she walked. He hoped to see her at the club later on that night.
$$$
“Pass the ball! Pass the muh’fuckin’ ball!” exclaimed the tall, dark skinned brother standing at the top of the key of the basketball court. Finally, the rock was passed to him. He immediately faked left, and then went right, leaving the nigga who was supposed to be guarding him on the ground looking stupid with a sprained ankle. He drove to the lane, jumped in the air with the ball, did a windmill, and then slammed it into the basket with as much force as possible. All of this happened within a matter of seconds.
Everybody who saw what had just gone down went fool. “Did you see that shit?!” asked one person excitedly. “Goddamn, that nigga showin’ out!” exclaimed somebody else.
“Yo Shawn, I think you broke that nigga’s ankle on that one there, homey!” exclaimed Ant D.
“Naw, I just shook his ass outta them fake ass J’s he got on. Muh’fucka should know better than to be guarding me when the jump man is missing off one of them shits,” replied Shawn, referring to the imitation Jordans his latest victim was wearing. “The muh’fuckin’ jump man missin’ the ball and the hand!”
The crowd broke out laughing. Shawn McGee was a tall, dark skinned, lanky dude from Piedmont Manor. He went to Southside High School, and was the starting forward on the varsity basketball team. He had taken them to the 3A championship games the previous year. It was rumored that several colleges were looking to recruit him. Basketball was his life. Every day you’d catch him in the gym after school, practicing like he was possessed. And every weekend you’d catch him at the park putting on a show for the people.
“Fuck that! Since y’all niggas slobberin’ all over Shawn dick like a bunch of bitches, I got five stacks, cash money, that say my lil’ brother and two mo’ niggas will beat the shit outta Shawn and any two niggas stupid enough to ride wit’ him,” yelled Nut from the sidelines. He pulled out fifty crisp one hundred dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band.
“Shiiiiiiiit, nigga, you ain’t said nothin’ but a word,” replied Ant D. He pulled out a stack of his own money.
“Then it’s a bet. Let Stacey hold the money,” said Nut, referring to a girl from Berea who was standing on the sideline. They each gave Stacey their five thousand dollars to hold. She stuffed both the stacks of bills into her bra.
Shawn picked two young ballers that he knew were decent to run with him, and Adrian, Nut’s little brother, picked his two. Adrian was 5’8”, and had serious game despite his height. He was like a smaller version of A.I. He was small, but fearless when it came to going to the hole. And his handle was sicker than a muh’fucka with the flu!
The game was going to 11 - you make it you take it. If both teams had point game, they had to win by 2. The game started out going back and forth, with no team really dominating the other. The score was tied at 5, but all of a sudden, Adrian took over and scored four consecutive shots. Three penetrating lay-ups, and one jump shot that was so sweet it didn’t even touch the net going in.
“That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout! I told y’all my lil’ brother was the fuckin’ truth!” exclaimed Nut. “You might as well give me my money now!”
“Come on, Shawn, tighten that shit up,” encouraged Ant D.
“I got this,” replied Shawn.
The score was 9 to 5, and Adrian had the ball again, driving to the lane. He went up for a lay-up, and Shawn came flying out of nowhere. He knocked the ball forcefully out of the air, and into the hands of his teammate, who immediately took the open shot and made it.
After that, Shawn went to work. They tried to double him when he came inside, but he just made them pay with one acrobatic shot after another. After putting in four baskets of his own, the score was now point game to 9, in favor of Shawn and his squad. Shawn had the ball at the wing. He was so feared from that spot, Adrian got out of position and ran over to help, leaving his man wide open. Shawn started to drive baseline, but then at the last second made a no look pass to his teammate, who made a jump shot off the backboard. Game over!
The crowd went crazy screaming and yelling. Nobody had really thought Shawn and them could come back after the way Adrian had been scoring.
“Fuck that! This shit ain’t over yet. I want some get back,” yelled Nut. “If I can’t get no get back, then you ain’t gettin’ paid!” He said, reneging on the initial bet.
>
“Fuck you mean I ain’t gettin’ paid,” fumed Ant D. He walked over to where Stacey was to get his money.
“Exactly what the fuck I said, nigga! I ain’t stutter, bitch,” replied Nut. He pulled a black Glock 9mm from his waist, and let it hang down by his side. “Now… can I get some mothafuckin’ get back, or what?!”
All of a sudden from Nut’s blindside, he was hit with a savage two-piece. The blows to his face caused him to stagger, and his gun fell to the pavement, and went off in the process.
The loud gunshot made people scatter away from the ball court, including Stacey, who was now 10 G’s richer. They were trying to get the fuck out of there before the police showed up, or they got hit with a stray bullet.
But unfortunately, somebody was already hit when Nut’s gun inadvertently went off. It was Shawn. He lay prone on the pavement with a hole in his chest. Blood was seeping out of the wound. His homey Trap saw his boy on the ground bleeding, and tried to get somebody’s attention to get some help or call for an ambulance. But amidst all of the chaos, his pleas fell on deaf ears. Trap couldn’t do anything but hold his friend in his arms as his life slowly drained from his body.
“Come on, Shawn, you too strong to die, nigga. You still got too much to do. Too much to live for, nigga. You gon’ be the one who make it out for us, man… Come on, man! Hold on, dog…”
Trap was already talking to a corpse. Shawn died in his friend’s arms, right along with any promising future that he might’ve had. Trap held his homey in his arms, and despite him trying to be a strong about the situation, the tears still somehow managed to escape from his eyes. Another dream permanently deferred, for no good reason. That seemed to happen too frequently in the ‘hood.
“See, that’s why I hate coming out here,” said one girl. “It always be some bullshit.”
“Girl, you ain’t never lied. Somebody always wanna start some shit. Everybody was out here having a good time, and then all of a sudden, them niggas start that crazy shit.”
ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) Page 9