Cross Artist by R. Jacobs

Author:R. Jacobs [Jacobs, R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780984994717
Amazon: 0984994718
Publisher: Urban House Publishing
Published: 2012-05-16T04:00:00+00:00

"Aye, Country, I don't like that nigga Merk; he's a arrogant muthafucka. He was looking and talking to us like we was some lil' niggas or something," Ramon commented, clearly agitated.

"I know, that's why I didn't even say shit. If I did, it would have fucked around and been something real disrespectful that would have resulted in us jumping his ass in that hallway."

"Hell, yeah! Especially when he handed me the money and then snatched it back--like he was trying to play me."

"Yeah, I saw that," Country snickered.

"You saw that shit, man. Ah, man! I was about to snap. I swear, I was about to say 'fuck everything' and just hook off on whoadi after that shit."

"I'm saying, Ramon. You know how them west-side niggas is. That's why we don't get along with them. That's why the south side never got along with the west side, period, because them niggas always trying to act like they run shit."

"I know. All I gotta say is, that nigga Merk lucky I'm a businessman before anything and serious about my business. Else, we'd just say, 'fuck him' and keep this $2,500, you feel me, whoadi?"

"I know that's right. The beef would just cook, but wouldn't be about nothing because we meat eaters. As soon as Victor brought that nigga to the projects, neither one of them would have made it the fuck out."

As Country and Ramon continued venting, Ramon pulled into the parking lot of Cooper's Project and parked.

"Damn, there's a lot of traffic out here," Country commented, talking about the slew of narcotic customers walking around.

"Hell yeah," Ramon responded excitedly as they both moved quickly to exit the car.

"Yo! You! What up, 20's of coke and $15 bags of dope right here," they both yelled as they cut off two potential buyers.

"Let me get three twenties!" one customer yelled.

"Yeah, and let me get two! Ya'll got those green bags right?"

"Nah, but this shit here is raw," Country stated, holding out two clear baggies of coke.

Seeing the clear bags Country held out, the middle aged coke-fiend announced, uninterested, "Nah, I'm out here to get them green bags everybody talking about."

"Yeah, me too," the woman who accompanied him agreed. They both walked off, heading towards the back of the courtyard where D-Lo and a few other of their homeboys stood, surrounded by addicts exchanging money for product.

"Damn, Ramon, what the fuck going on out this muthafucka, whoadi?" asked Country, shocked by the amount of traffic in the courtyard.

"I don't know, but I'm about to find out."

"D-Lo! L! Jace! What up, whoadi?" Ramon yelled, holding his hands in the air as they approached the crowd.

"What up, whoadi," everyone yelled simultaneously as they began shaking hands and exchanging hugs.

"Yo! We getting this money bra. You know how us Cooper Project niggas do it. We keep that raw for the customers," Jace boasted, passing Country a blunt he was smoking.

Country accepted the blunt from Jace, as he eyed the bottles of Dom-P and expensive liquors lined up on the ground.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.