Levels to the Game by Hood Rich

Author:Hood Rich [Rich, Hood]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lock Down Publications
Published: 2018-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

We'd been back in the city for three weeks and hustling harder than ever. Now we had four trap houses that were doing at least eighty bands apiece a day. Because of that, we had to hire more young hustlers, and keep Andrea in the kitchen whipping that work more than ever before. It seemed like every time I'd stop at one trap house to pick up a bag of money, and drop off another kilo, I'd be called to another one to do the same thing. I felt like I was being knocked back and forth for the positive.

It got to the point where Andrea had to sit me down and show me how to mix the cocaine with meth myself because I was having her cook so much of it, for long periods of times. It didn't take long for me to master the whipping game, and before I knew it, I was a pro, and cooking at least a bird a day.

I wanted to show Paper how to whip too, but by this time, the homey was tooting powder real heavy. I don't know what had gotten him to doing it, but he had, and he went through about an ounce a day. I didn't feel like it was a cause for concern at this time.

Because we were slanging so much dope in our area, we started to get famous and known for our hustle. It got to the point that whenever we went into the restaurants around the hood, our orders were free, or they wouldn't take our money, no matter how much we insisted. Paper didn't see no problem with it, but it made me feel some type of way because I felt like we were taking food out of the mouths of people that had worked hard to earn a living. It ate at my conscious, so from time to time I'd send some of the lil’ homies into certain places and have them overpay, or leave healthy tips that ranged anywhere from fifty to a thousand dollars.

There was a main landlord that owned most of the properties and establishments in our hood. His name was Jeffrey Dyson. He was a well-dressed, mulatto man with a standoffish type of attitude. That was until I started hitting his hand and pay up a lot of the rents for the businesses in our area. After I started to do that on a regular basis, it got to the point that he was flagging me down, or sending me bottles of champagne whenever we'd run into each other in the clubs. But I wasn't paying the bills for the businesses in our hood just for the sport. N’all. I had a better game plan in mind.

Most referred to it as money laundering, but in the hood we called it turning dirty money clean, and that was just what I needed to do, because the money was coming so fast that I was running out of places to keep it.

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