Page 3 of The Richest Gangstas in the Room
“And where the hell the ribs at?”
“I told you I handled it bae” I said, smacking her ass before she could go off. “I ordered from I-57 rib house, Zurie’s picking them up for me.”
She side-eyed me. “Mhmm.”
I kissed her forehead. “You look too fucking fine to be mad right now. Chill, I got something for you later on. Let me go holla at the guys.” I told her while smacking her ass, it jiggled slightly and I loved that shit. She smacked her lips which caused me to laugh.
When I stepped back out, the yard was thick with my people. We had our monthly meetings here. It was safe enough and familiar enough, but something was off about today, and I didn’tknow why but shit just felt different. The freight train lick we pulled a couple of days ago, went perfect. No heat came back on us and there were no witnesses.
We’d hit a shipment loaded with Louis Vuitton and Gucci luggage sets, Rolexes, Cartier bracelets, iPads, MacBooks, and limited-editionsneakers straight from the manufacturer. Shit you could flip for damn near retail if you had the right fence. After the split, each man was looking at a piece of six figures.
The crew was posted under the canopy, mufuckas had plates piled high with food, liquor bottles sweating in the sun. My lil man was still tearing through the grass with his truck, Trigg keeping watch, while still talking shit with a couple of the fellas.
I stepped up, in front of them niggas, with my voice on full bass. So muthafuckas could hear me clearly.
“Aight listen up y’all… y’all niggas happy right now, I see it on your faces. But listen, don’t get stupid with this shit. I don’t wanna see no fifty-thousand-dollar watches on your wrist by next week, no iced-out grillz like you just signed a rap deal.” A couple niggas laughed but I didn’t.
“All that shit does is bring eyes on us. This shit in the streets is chess, not checkers. Y’all niggas don’t see me flossin’ every fucking dollar we touch, right, y’all don’t see my girl postin’ gucci bags and diamonds and shit on the internet right? That’s why we’re still here. That’s why we haven’t been knocked yet, we move smart, and we spend quietly.”
I paced a little, scanning the faces. They were listening, but not all of ‘em was hearing me. I caught Trigg grinning at something Sontae did, my boy had just “parked” his truck next to Trigg’s Timbs like it was a real garage. It was all good vibes… until it wasn’t.
POP! POP! POP!
Without warning gunfire cracked through the yard.
Screams erupted. Niggas dropped plates, flipping tables for cover. The smell of gunpowder hit instantly, hot, and metallic in the air. I spun toward the sound just in time to see two masked men storming the side gate. one blasting wild shots, killing some of my crew with one bullet this nigga moved like a marksman, and the other masked up nigga was heading straight for my son.
“YO! GET MY SON!” I roared, charging forward with my gun out aiming straight for them niggas dome.
Trigg grabbed Sontae, trying to shield him, but the gunman fired.Boc!
Trigg dropped to his knees clutching his side. The second masked man ripped my boy out of Trigg’s arms like he weighed nothing.
I hit the dirt, bullets snapping past my ear. A third masked man appeared, covering them niggas with more shots, driving the crew back. Yah-Yah ’s screams were loud and panicked, and it cut through the chaos from the kitchen door.
“SOOOOSAAAAA!” hearing her yell my name broke something in me.
I was moving, but them niggas were faster. The man holding Sontae turned, locking eyes with me for just a second and I saw in his eyes what mine held for years… no fear. The black SUV waiting for them squealed off so hard the tires smoked. I chased behind it, sending shots to the back of the truck. But it didn’t stop them niggas from moving.
Moments later it was just silence. Just my ragged breathing, Yah-Yah trying to break free from Mya’s grip, my mama frozen like she had just seen a ghost, and Trigg groaning in the grass, blood soaking through his shirt.
I wasn’t thinking about the police.
I wasn’t thinking about witnesses.
Somebody had just declared war… and they did it the dirtiest way possible. They took the one thing in this world I could never replace.
I couldn’t blame anybody for this shit but me. I made too many enemies in my past, I stacked grudges like bodies, and now I had to play with the devil. Whoever did this shit knew exactly how to reach me. They didn’t come for my money or my empire. They came for my son.
And in doing that, they ripped my heart straight out my chest.
As I stood in the wreckage of my own life, all I could think about was how the hell I ended up here. I’m not perfect, and I never will be. but I’d been trying. Trying to be better. Trying to be present.
Trying to rewrite my future.
But you know that saying that the streets didn’t forget nor did they forgive. Well in my case that deemed to be true.
So, before I lose my fucking mind completely, let me take y’all back for a second… because I gotta story to tell and can’t no mufucka tell it like me.
