by Kingpin
‘Rest In Peace Popdawg, I hope you made it to heaven, I know life was hell’.
Chapter 4
“Curtis you need to get back here, I need you my nigga”. In an unanticipated turn of events, there was a second cause for me to head back to Demon Blood--- my nigga Popdawg. Hearing those words though, really struck me, degraded the little strength I had in my knees that was keeping me upright, I fell to the flow so hard it dented the hardwood floor that decked out the floor of my cabin. I fought off the tears though, real niggas don’t cry and being one of the realest niggas I know, those tears had to be restrained. I picked up the phone that had flown out of my right hand in the fall and asked “what the fuck you mean? This is a joke right Zino?” In that moment, hoping he would say it was just a big joke and he only desired it to be a reason for me to come back on the block and spend some time with the niggas---besides, I had been away for two years by then and was surely missing the block and the squadd. “No Swiss, this shit as real as the illuminati my nigga”. Emotions took over at that point and a tear fell from my right eye despite my best attempts to maintain my real ‘nigga-ness’. That tear was followed by a second thought ‘the illuminati might or might not be real, so, too this story might not be real’ in a desperate attempt to attain some sort of hope--- so I asked no more questions and decided to continue that conversation when I got to Demon Blood. I maintained that hope that he was alive still as I packed my two large suitcases a thought came into my mind ‘we’ve always been the realest niggas, we been the hittaz, we been the most feared squadd since the beginning of time---when the fuck did that shit change, and who the fuck would be brave enough to fuck with the Squadd and much less a nigga as psychopathic as Popdawg?”. In a couple minutes I was already packed, I threw my suitcases, a couple mugs of moonshine and the last batch of weed I had grown in the back of my Jeep wrangler and sped off in the direction of Demon Blood. Like any hood nigga would, I lit a blunt while steering my wrangler through the highway---what a mistake that shit was, I began hallucinating the fuck out of that highway, seeing images of Popdawg and the countless hours we would spend arguing about trivial things like, why we can’t find a good bitch in the city, or why we shouldn’t all have the same colour vehicle or any other random shit. We would sometimes play dominoes and he’d be caught cheating, playing twice in one round, or hiding tiles, and I’d have to punch him in the fucking face, wherein a fight between us would always ensue, neither of us ever winning the fight and him always calling me to apologize a couple hours later. Yes, Popdawg would fuck up, but he was definitely a real nigga, who knew when he fucked up and when to make amends.--- My hallucinations on that highway made a drive that would normally only be around three hours become multiplied to six. I didn’t get to Demon Blood until night had already set in. When I got to the entrance to the city, there was a red Rolls Royce parked, within it was my nigga Benzino, acting as my escort into the city---that shit made me laugh, as if Swiss was a cat that needed an escort into the city. He drove ahead of me, pushed his left hand out the vehicle and twirled it around, a signal to follow.--- So, I followed, and he led me to a new night club with the title ‘SQ- NIGHTS’ bolded just above its doors. I popped open my door and followed him as he walked through the transparent glass doors of this unknown night club. He hopped into the VIP section and ordered a couple bottles of champagne and I threw four blunts on the table. “My nigga, I knew you would be bringing some of that green shit from Fresno”. I shouted “Moonshine soaked my niggah”. He laughed and we got down to some real talking. I was intrigued about this new club so I queried “what’s up with this new club family, ain’t Brothether still the spot?” He replied with an excitement in his voice, “Naa my nigga, this our spot, this Squadd owned and Squadd certified, this brought in a little over a million last year for the Squadd”. I was a bit excited to hear the good news, besides, the Squadd money is still my money, I got 25% shares in this shit. The elephant in the room also needed to be addressed, “where is my niggah Melwheezy?” He held his breath for a minute before replying as if to think about what would be this words that follow and went on in a soft- spoken voice “he left a day after Popdawg died and….”
“And what Ben?”
“and…”
“Spill it Ben, and fucking what?”
“And, he is distraught, to the point that he tried to kill himself a couple times, before he blew up the apartment complex he was managing and left for Europe, well at least that’s where I heard he went, he didn’t want to fuck with this squadd shit anymore, in a time when we need him the most that niggah bitched out”.
In an attempt to soothe his mind I replied “I’m back my nigga and you know the Swiss got this”, a corny ass statement, but as high as I was, it was all I had in me.
“I know you would be Swiss, you the realest niggah I know, this year has been fucked up from start to finish though?”
“What you mean from start to finish fam?”
“Swiss, January until now, our profits has went down exponentially and niggas had been dying more than usual, we have had around ten deaths this year, Popdawg was the tenth, and after Melwheezy left, I figured calling you would make the most sense, you always knew just what to do to neutralize some shit”.
“Fuck, profits are down? I thought you said this club brought in millions”.
“No, not millions, over a million and this is about the main source of our income right now, the drug and weapon trade has been down, and so are hit orders, the Kingpin has been getting the most of everything ever since a couple months after you left. It seems this enterprise needs you Swiss”.
“Need me? Naa nigga, we need each other, this a team and we all lean on each other, the first shit we need to do is get Melwheezy back on the block”.
Benzino sighed “wow, get Melwheezy back, that nigga seemed solidified by his decision to leave” in response to my having stating a resolve to get Melwheezy back, apparently in total disbelief.
“Watch me bring my nigga back and see how we fuck shit up”.
Benzino, replied, “I hear you my nigga, loud and clear”.
After his reply I popped one of the champagne bottles that were sitting on the counter--- poured out half for my niggah Popdawg and hit the rest heads up. “By the way, when we having the funeral for Popdawg?”
What he said next would send me into a state of shock. “we don’t have a body, all we have is a video sent to my email of Popdawg’s execution”.
“What the fuck kind of shit is this? That’s some terrorism type shit, I see why Melwheezy would run away from this shit, let me see the video though”.
Benzino pulled out his smart phone and opened the video, what I saw would send shivers through my spine--- Yes, I killed a lot of motherfuckers in my time, and yes, I disembowelled many cats, but to see my blood brother die like that, and to see that shit recorded and sent to the Squadd in total disrespect I simply couldn’t take it. In the video, they tortured Popdawg for an hour before finally ending his life, his limbs were removed piece by piece--- finger by finger using a hacksaw. They left him to bleed out as much as possible before setting his remains on fire. Fuck, we couldn’t even give my niggah a proper burial.
Chapter 5
“Fuck this shit, we doing a hit tonight bro”. By then, the only cat I could think of that was brave enough to fuck with the Squadd was Harold, and since that nigga was hidden in his bitch ass fortress, the next best thing was his little trap- houses he had spread throughout demon blood--- everywhere except the aves, which are all ours, ever avenue is ran by Squadd niggas, that’s our monopoly. I told Ben to give me a tool for the hit, he was apparently prepared for my intents and immediately pushed two Beretta M9s in my hand and we both jumped in my Jeep and drove slowly towards 8th street, which held the nearest non- squadd owned trap house. I have been saying Squadd a lot and haven’t said the meaning of it, well as one would guess that’s the name of our gang, ‘CrB Squadd’, the letters CrB represents the Caribbean, that i
s because for the most part, the Squadd is made up of cats who originally are from the Caribbean or have some sort of Caribbean blood- line.---So we were both in my Jeep, pistols cocked and eyes locked straight ahead, Ben knew as I knew that Harold was the only nigga brave enough to be fucking with the Squadd to the extent that we were being fucked with. So he knew we were heading for 8th Street, in a couple minutes we arrived at our destination.
“This shit seems quiet my niggah, do you really wanna run up on them cats so soon”.
“Shut the fuck up with that weak ass shit Benzino, you know we gotta eat back some food for Popdawg ASAP, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if we didn’t catch a couple bodies”.
“Alright my nigga, you tha Swiss”/
With red flags spread across our lips, weapons cocked, silencers attached, gloves hastened, boots tightened, and the demons within us awakened we ran up in that bitch, Benzino took the back door and I hit the front. First person I saw was a bitch with a tattooed face--- No considerations, I squeezed the trigger of the Beretta in my left hand and a bullet sped thru her skull, she probably wasn’t a part of their gang but the bitch was a witness regardless and a potential problem if left alive. There were ten cats in the hall stacked upon each other as if they were having a faggot meeting, ‘pew, blau, blau, blau, pew, pew, blau, blau, pew, pew’, ten shots fired from me and Benzino’s weapons. All them niggas sent to hell in a matter of less than thirty seconds. Benzino had slit the throat of a nigga who was passed out in the bathroom drunk too, so that was twelve total bodies in a nights work. Before leaving I did my usual shit, and gripped the five of the niggas in the hall and disembowelled them, those bitch ass niggas needed to be sent a message. The whole hood population of Demon Blood probably knew whenever a cat gets disembowelled Curtis Swiss is involved. “You had your gloves on at all times right Ben?”, “yes my niggah, you know we don’t fuck up”, I knew he did, but just in case, I asked as the police was still a major factor and issue, even though they weren’t that effective in demon blood and they also hardly ever came to near our traps, it still helped to be precautious--- besides, I believe every black man is born with the African- slave luck within them, just waiting to become manifested. Yes, the African- slave luck, a luck similar to the one that led the Africans into slavery, the worst luck known to man, a luck that would have your people subjected to hundreds of years of cotton picking and domestic labour with no economic benefit. ---Yeah, niggah, that type of luck, so every time I see a new million in my stash I thank God, Yahweh, Allah and Buddha, there is only one Supreme Being in my world but I do that just to make sure I am at least referring to the higher power by the right name. Each year I am not directly in slavery I am thankful and that new million in my stash makes my freedom that much more authenticated. ---So we drove back to 37th ave, smoking on one of the blunts I had rolled earlier. “I have a surprise for you back home my niggah, you back and we need to celebrate that shit, we lost Popdawg but we re- united the squadd to some level”. “We are always united my niggah, but I hear you Ben”. I wondered what type of surprise this niggah had for me, he was always a funny type niggah that tried his best to play some sort of prank on a niggah, I had hoped it wasn’t some prank type shit as I would have to cuff him upside the head with my beretta. In a few short minutes we got back to 37th ave but we didn’t actually go inside because, we forgot Benzino’s car was back at SQ- NIGHTS, so we drove back to our nightclub and picked up his Rolls Royce and instead of going to 37th ave, we went to my old apartment at 32nd ave as that was much closer. I unlocked the door, thinking the surprise wouldn’t still be in full effect since we had changed our destination---there it was, my surprise, twenty Latina bitches were in the crip sitting in nothing but a thong on, all top- less, boobs everywhere, fuck, a sight I hadn’t seen in years. That nigga, Benzino into them Latina bitches though, his trap had always been filled with them bitches, they were the ones who often cooked up his dope, whereas I really didn’t give a fuck who were the bitches who cooked up my dope, so my kitchen was often filled with multi- racial bitches whipping up my dope. “Welcome back brother, them ten over there is your bitches, fresh off the boat, these ten is mine, I’m probably gonna give all of them the Benzino stamp”. “What the fuck is the Benzino stamp my nigga?”
“That demon tat of me we all got on our backs”. He said that shit and laughed as he walked towards the room to the master bedroom at the back of my apartment, and left the hall and surrounding rooms for me to frolic in. I wasn’t really up to romping with them bitches though, so I cracked a bottle of moonshine and had two of the Latinas roll up some weed. We smoked and drank the rest of the night away, I did have the bitches caress my anaconda as I sipped moonshine and inhaled that blunt smoke, “that’s that O.G. shit right there”.
Chapter 6
The next morning I decided it was time to hit up Melwheezy, I didn’t have a contact number for him as yet, so I went to his Facebook profile and searched his information, and there it was, his new address and phone number. After actually finding his number, I thought,‘this niggah never saw the importance of keeping contact information and location to yourself, that’s fuck niggah shit right there’, I then proceeded to place the call. The phone rang a couple times, then I heard a hoarse voice in my ear say “Hello, who the fuck this”. “Swiss niggah”, “Fuck, its Swiss this for real, my bad for the way I answered family, what’s up?”
“We need you back here my niggah, you got to ketch the next flight back, we got some work to cook up”.
“Naa, niggah I have decided to follow Jesus”
“Stop with the fuck niggah shit Melwheezy, get yo ass back here ASAP”
“I have decided…”
“Yes, you have decided, I get that, now what’s your decision?”
“---to follow Jesus”, he said it this time while chuckling, so I then realized more than ever that Melwheezy was by all means a fuck niggah.
“I expect you back here by tomorrow night, next flight my niggah.”
“This was all I was really waiting for, a call from the Swiss, I decided to be back when you were”.
“Alright my niggah, a Squadd niggah always know where he is needed”.
After the conversation, I went to the porch and saw a box sitting at the front of the gate in front of my apartment complex. I hopped down to the gate and picked up the box, it had a paper on the top with the words ‘To The Squadd’ printed on it. I opened it, and a picture of Popdawg was within what I could only assume were the ashes that resulted from his body being set on fire. That was all we had left for a ceremony to be held for our blood brother. Ash--- all we had left of our brother. I slowly walked back to the porch and sat on the railing, box in hand. I began reminiscing on our earlier years together, I seem to always be able to vividly recall our experiences growing up in the Southside Region of Demon Blood City, I assume that those that do not live in the US of A may see this place as a land of dreams and opportunities where nothing is impossible, which is a statement I wish weren’t as true as it is, nothing is impossible, nothing good and nothing bad is impossible. Raping of children, isn’t impossible, nor is becoming a successful entrepreneur. Serial killers popping up at random isn’t impossible, nor is becoming a thriving car salesman or telemarketer. I have seen many lives ripped apart by rape and many innocent deaths, simply because a nigga was unable to truly hustle for his own and chose to take that shit out on someone else. Demon Blood city is a cesspool of crime and poverty, many demons exist here, and the only way to truly make it, is to be the best demon you can be, nice guys don’t finish last here, them the cats that get sacrificed for the sake of these streets, them the niggas that gets fed to the hells. Nothing that exists in Demon Blood goes to heaven, the statement ‘all dogs go to heaven’ is untrue, even the dogs here are hell bound. I recall a hearing of a three month old child being ripped to pieces by a pit- bull on 31st ave when I was in 7th grade. Shit like that you don’t forget. The environment is what created us, we know of nothi
ng else. When Popdawg died, that motivated the squadd, not for the sake of revenge, but it fuelled our thirst for blood. Yes, revenge played a roll there, but it was our thirst for blood that really controlled us. As I sat on the railing of my apartment complex I recalled the first crime Popdawg and I did together. He was actually the first person I ever did a crime with, Benzino was involved to some degree but didn’t actually go on the mission with us, he did go and get a Beretta for us to use on the mission from an O.G. on 38th ave. It was actually Popdawg’s plan and it was basically to rob unsuspecting University Students as they walked to their cars or on the pathway to their homes, these students were Gold mines, just waiting for us to come in and reap their little goodies that they had held in their Jansport backpacks. This mission was mainly for us to get money to by our own gun and some clothes to flex with on the block, and we were to basically rob as much students as possible, bitches or niggas, it really didn’t matter who we robbed. But if we were to find this one cat called Harold Boyd, who was a drug dealer from the rich people side of the city, we would rob his shit to the best of our abilities and not fuck with any other student. Benzino also managed to get us two scooters to take for our mission, so we had pretty much everything we needed, including a picture of that bitch ass nigga Harold Boyd to remember how he looked. We sped off on our scooter and within a couple minutes we reached University Heights, we looked around for a bit to scope out the potential victims and within our scoping I spot the little Harold, I told Popdawg and he immediately sped off to his location--- Harold tried to escape, but the little nigga was fat from eating all them rich people food on the North side and fell pretty much immediately after trying to flee. Popdawg pistol whipped him about four times and I came in with a stomp to the side of his head with my Timberland boots and by then he was unconscious as a motherfucker. He had two bags with him, a regular backpack on his back and a gym sack in his right hand, well it was no longer in his right hand since he was knocked the fuck out. We sped off on our scooters with the bags and everything we foraged from his pockets. We headed back to 37th ave, where I and my brother resided since coming to the US, called over Benzino and Melwheezy and we sorted out the spoils of the war. To my surprise it was a fucking come up by all definitions or the phrase ‘come up’. We got about fifty- thousand dollars and also abut twenty- thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine and heroin from the haul. That was the start of all the real squadd shit, the spoils were shared and the drugs were sold and the profits were invested into more drugs and eventually we had a trap of our own, steadily expanding each year. We were all only fourteen on that first robbery. My interest in all the squadd shit wasn’t necessarily on my own accord. I probably would have turned out into a better nigga if I wasn’t made to live in a house as fucked up as the one I did, we all had fucked up families, me and Benzino both had in- laws living with us that fucked with our mental capacities each day, and rather than actually killing them, we decided to hang out on the basket- ball court near our homes each day we didn’t have school. Melwheezy and Popdawg just had fucked up parents; they simply didn’t give a fuck if any of them died one way or another. We all became friends due to our love of basketball and also because we all came from the same Caribbean country, we all came from the country of Belize, which was a strange similarity, not that strange but still a bit obscure. We were also all relatives of the Gang royalties in Belize, being Gang leaders--- all having ties with the George Street Gang, which was a Blood faction in Belize and the most prominent gang ever since the fall of the Majestic Alley Crips. We discovered our heritage during a day when Benzino blurted a Creole phrase when playing basketball, a cat named Jose accidentally hit him in the head while he was going for a layup and he shouted “weh d fuck d goane with you pussyhole, you waa feel or what?” in response to Jose’s blunder. This simply means, what’s up? Is it your desire to feel pain or not?
