they got Q, but I've been hearing a lot about them boys.... Game Tight, Gee and another one called Doe or sum'em like that."
Well they better be ready, a nigga in here told me them NY boys are out of Queen’s,The main nigga is this cat name Dame and he known for getting grimy. So you tell June and Baby to stay on top of their game, and you make sure you keep an eye on Tee and our baby. I know you won’t hesitate to put work in if you approach, but Tee ain’t never shot no one. And I almost lost my son once and I’m not taking that chance again."
Chapter 3
The Block is Hot
East Washington Street was officially labeled as a War Zone. The young hustlers had retaliated against all out of town Hustlers. If you were'nt from "The Block" you were subject to get jumped on the spot.
It was Friday morning, the first of the month. "Mother's Day" some liked to call it. Game Tight, Gee, and Doe sat on the steps of the hole-in-the-wall club on The Block called "The Crooked Window."
"Pass the mothafucka blunt nigga," said Game Tight to Gee who had leaned back on the steps in a haze of smoke. After coughing for a few seconds he spoke.
"Fu.... Fu.... Fuck you nigga. I.... I.... bought this shit. It's some mothafuckin killa too homie. Got a nigga twisted."
Doe sat silently looking out into the middle of nowhere. His fifth of Wild Irish Rose was half empty. Gee was the oldest at twenty one, followed by Game Tight who was twenty. Doe brought up the rear at eighteen. Back in the day the P.G. Crew would give them dollars to buy candy from the local store before and after school. When the Crew closed down shop for good they saw it as their opportunity to come up.
Originally there were five of them, but within the last five months they had buried one of their lil soldiers while another had been confined to a wheelchair for life. All done by the same hands.
"Yo, is that him?" Game Tight said before reaching underneath his over sized shirt, touching his forty cal.
"I don't know," answered Gee who's own hand had disappeared from view.
Doe quietly stepped to the corner of the building where the sawed off Mossberg pump leaned against the wall.
They all waited nervously watching the black on black Yukon as it crept to a stop three parking spaces down from them. There was a deafening silence making seconds seem like hours.
Ring.... Ring.... Ring.... the sound of Game Tight's cell phone broke the quietness in the air.
"Yeah," he answered never taking his eyes off the Navigator.
"Sup, young nigga.... Fo dis shit get outta control y'all nigga's betta grow some hands fool," said June. "I got Mac looking right ‘tween yo motha fuckin eyes, young-gunner."
Game Tight eased his hand from beneath his shirt before speaking,
"Damn soldier, we didn't know who tha fuck you was creeping up on us like that. When did you cop that shit, nigga?"
"This wifey's shit," June said exiting the truck with his cell to his-ear. He had hit Game Tight on his pager the day before to set up this meeting. As soon as Baby Rasta contacted his people, within hours June had fifty joints dropped off at their meet up location.
As soon as he dropped the duffle bag of cash in the back seat to pay Rasta, he reached behind him grabbing the heavy bag tossing it back to June. He spoke.
"Y'all nigga's money don't spend wit' me, til my nigga home, we family mun," he said.
"Sup Gee? Sup Doe?" June said sitting on the steps next to them.
"What up June?"
"You nigga's got work?" asked June.
"We got a lil sum'em," replied Doe.
"Um, talkin bout some serious work nigga."
"Nuttin but that bullshit floating round here now homie. That bitch ass nigga Dame got that weak shit flooded on the block homie," said Game.
"First chance I get I'ma slump that nigga, June. That bitch nigga kilt Peanut for nuttin."
"Yeah, I heard," said June. "But I'm bout to take all
Well they better be ready, a nigga in here told me them NY boys are out of Queen’s,The main nigga is this cat name Dame and he known for getting grimy. So you tell June and Baby to stay on top of their game, and you make sure you keep an eye on Tee and our baby. I know you won’t hesitate to put work in if you approach, but Tee ain’t never shot no one. And I almost lost my son once and I’m not taking that chance again."
Chapter 3
The Block is Hot
East Washington Street was officially labeled as a War Zone. The young hustlers had retaliated against all out of town Hustlers. If you were'nt from "The Block" you were subject to get jumped on the spot.
It was Friday morning, the first of the month. "Mother's Day" some liked to call it. Game Tight, Gee, and Doe sat on the steps of the hole-in-the-wall club on The Block called "The Crooked Window."
"Pass the mothafucka blunt nigga," said Game Tight to Gee who had leaned back on the steps in a haze of smoke. After coughing for a few seconds he spoke.
"Fu.... Fu.... Fuck you nigga. I.... I.... bought this shit. It's some mothafuckin killa too homie. Got a nigga twisted."
Doe sat silently looking out into the middle of nowhere. His fifth of Wild Irish Rose was half empty. Gee was the oldest at twenty one, followed by Game Tight who was twenty. Doe brought up the rear at eighteen. Back in the day the P.G. Crew would give them dollars to buy candy from the local store before and after school. When the Crew closed down shop for good they saw it as their opportunity to come up.
Originally there were five of them, but within the last five months they had buried one of their lil soldiers while another had been confined to a wheelchair for life. All done by the same hands.
"Yo, is that him?" Game Tight said before reaching underneath his over sized shirt, touching his forty cal.
"I don't know," answered Gee who's own hand had disappeared from view.
Doe quietly stepped to the corner of the building where the sawed off Mossberg pump leaned against the wall.
They all waited nervously watching the black on black Yukon as it crept to a stop three parking spaces down from them. There was a deafening silence making seconds seem like hours.
Ring.... Ring.... Ring.... the sound of Game Tight's cell phone broke the quietness in the air.
"Yeah," he answered never taking his eyes off the Navigator.
"Sup, young nigga.... Fo dis shit get outta control y'all nigga's betta grow some hands fool," said June. "I got Mac looking right ‘tween yo motha fuckin eyes, young-gunner."
Game Tight eased his hand from beneath his shirt before speaking,
"Damn soldier, we didn't know who tha fuck you was creeping up on us like that. When did you cop that shit, nigga?"
"This wifey's shit," June said exiting the truck with his cell to his-ear. He had hit Game Tight on his pager the day before to set up this meeting. As soon as Baby Rasta contacted his people, within hours June had fifty joints dropped off at their meet up location.
As soon as he dropped the duffle bag of cash in the back seat to pay Rasta, he reached behind him grabbing the heavy bag tossing it back to June. He spoke.
"Y'all nigga's money don't spend wit' me, til my nigga home, we family mun," he said.
"Sup Gee? Sup Doe?" June said sitting on the steps next to them.
"What up June?"
"You nigga's got work?" asked June.
"We got a lil sum'em," replied Doe.
"Um, talkin bout some serious work nigga."
"Nuttin but that bullshit floating round here now homie. That bitch ass nigga Dame got that weak shit flooded on the block homie," said Game.
"First chance I get I'ma slump that nigga, June. That bitch nigga kilt Peanut for nuttin."
"Yeah, I heard," said June. "But I'm bout to take all
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