Harlem Heat by 50 Cent & Mark Anthony

Author:50 Cent & Mark Anthony
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2007-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

Let’s Get

This Money

Late that afternoon, Panama, who had received thirtysomething stitches in his leg and another ten stitches in his arm, returned home from the emergency room and told my moms that he was bouncing and that he would be crashing with his man who was from Brownsville, Brooklyn.

Apparently Panama had a real issue with what went down between Lorenzo, Lorenzo’s homeboy, and himself, and he wanted to escalate shit and bring it to Lorenzo and his people for disrespecting him.

So while my mother and I were brainstorming and trying to figure out how to get the money up, Panama, who had just gotten back from the hospital, walked through the front door and—in my opinion— conveniently used the beef with Lorenzo to put a wedge between him and my mother. Immediately he started raising hell with my moms. He was screaming and cursing at her, asking her how come she hadn’t come to the hospital like she said she was gonna do.

“Panama, these niggas just jacked us for fifty thousand dollars and I’m stressed the fuck out sitting here trying to figure out how I’ma get this money back. That’s why I didn’t come,” my mother shouted back at Panama in response to his anger toward her.

“You let them bitch-ass niggas play me out and put a gun to my head and then you stay here and chill wit’ them and not come to the emergency room to see what was up with me?”

“Oh my God. Panama, why the fuck you even gotta go there? Do you see them still here? Lorenzo ain’t here, and neither is his boy,” my mother answered.

“Where the fuck them niggas live at, Roxy?” Panama demanded to know.

“Panama, let it go. That’s my granddaughter’s father. It’s over. Forget about it.”

“It ain’t fucking over! Roxy, you know how I get down. Can’t no nigga put a gun to my head and be walking around still breathing like shit is all good. Fuck that. Them niggas gotta bleed and feel some pain.”

“We need to be figuring out who the hell were them cats that ran up in the crib and got us for this money—.”

“We gonna find that out!” Panama said, cutting her off. “But the first thing I wanna deal with is how I was fucking disrespected.”

My mother blew some air outta her lungs and went to retrieve a cigarette. But she didn’t say nothing.

“Roxy, word is bond. If you don’t tell me where these niggas rest at, then I know you switching up sides on a nigga. Just let me know right the fuck now.”

“Ugh. Panama, why the hell you even going there? You know me. Pete, you fucking know me, and you know how I do. You just gotta understand that if Lorenzo is involved in some shit then automatically my granddaughter is involved in the same shit.”

Panama didn’t say nothing else to my moms; he just started knocking shit around and moving shit like he was looking for something. What he was really doing was gathering his shit so that he could leave.

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