All Eyez on Gunz

by Warren Holloway

  Soon as they passed by, I hit up D.C. to see where the fuck he was at. He was making me even more paranoid.

  Just as I was dialing up his data, Big Ivan yelled out.

  “Yo, cuz, is that your boy right there?”

  I looked over and saw the 760Li with the V-12 engine. It was custom dark with candy-red chrome 20s with dark candy-red backdrops and red tint faded to a mirror finish. This was his new whip, and that shit was all the way official.

  Big Ivan was definitely appreciating the 760Li BMW, especially being a BMW owner. It was making him want to step his game up with the big boys.

  “That candy paint sets that big boy off nice,” Big Ivan said, then added, “I might have to upgrade to that soon, fam.”

  “That could be your out-of-town toy. You know you can’t really do it like that around here unless you got a business or something,” I said, making sure he stayed focus.

  I got out of my truck as D.C. backed into a parking space. I was pissed and ready to check this nigga about being late.

  Big Ivan and Ace was already out of the whip, guns at the ready, and their eyes open for anything coming that I wouldn’t be able to see.

  “My nigga, Tommy Guns, what’s good with you?” D.C. said as he got out and came up to me, extending his hand to shake.

  I looked at this nigga heated but was ready to do business.

  “What the fuck took you so long? You know you got me out here heavy?”

  “I got caught up, my nigga,” he responded, turning to point at this sexy-ass Spanish mami with dark blonde hair and dimples in her smile as D.C. pointed to her.

  “She wanted to see how the back seats recline, so we made it happen. It was a beautiful situation.”

  “She from your way?”

  “I met that joint down B-more at Club Diamond strip joint on Baltimore Avenue.”

  “That’s my spot down there. Norma Jeans is also official,” I said before getting down to business. “Next time, don’t put pussy before paper, especially when you got a nigga on standby with four blocks.”

  D.C. saw the look in my eyes, the seriousness, and knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to leave his ass where he stood.

  “I feel you, my nigga. That shit won’t happen again,” he responded, glimpsing over at Ace and Big Ivan and seeing their serious faces.

  “You got the paper now, or you want this up front?”

  “I got bread for three of them joints, and if you want, I’ll bring the cash for the other one within two days or sooner. Niggas is on a drought down there. They waiting on me.”

  “You good for the other one? Get the paper to me when you get it.”

  I made my way over to the truck where my cousins were standing. I grabbed the four bricks out of the back seat before making my way back to D.C. The Brabus 65 was leaving the property and eyeing me and my whip down before radioing to the other Arab that remained at the back of the warehouse. That shit right there made me even more paranoid. Normally I would chase this clown down and confront him, but I was in the middle of taking care of business.

  I hurried over to D.C. ready to finish up, so I could get out of here. This spot was dead. I couldn’t use this location anymore, because I wasn’t trying to run across these Arab niggas anymore just in case somebody was watching them.

  I grabbed the bag of money from D.C. He took the bricks, jumped into his whip, and raced off. I jumped in my shit and turned the music up. Big Ivan did the same while racing off behind me and feeling this getting money shit. It was $100,000 just like that. I couldn’t complain. That was a day’s work. It takes a doctor a year to do that. The only risk to this job was niggas were always trying to take you from position, like those little niggas earlier. Other than that, I was loving this shit.

  CHAPTER 4

  A FEW DAYS PASSED by. I was up in New York with my connect, King Jose, taking care of business in the back of his bodega in Spanish Harlem.

  King Jose was one of the realest muthafuckas in the game outside of me and my family. He saw something in me when I was coming up in the game. Like me, he, too, got his paper with blood on his hand. King Jose blessed me with fifty bricks consignment on top of what I was already moving. He trusted me, seeing the same real nigga in me that was in him. Besides, his goons would track me down if shit got fucked up. I wouldn’t let that happen.

  King Jose’s uncle also gave him help in the game. He told him to die broke or on top with a smile. I think he chose to get rich. Fuck a smile.

  “Tommy, I like you, mi amigo. You always come correct. I wish I could say the same for the other puntas that I give a chance to.”

  “Good business is a business that will go a long way,” I responded while sipping on the drink he had one of his girls bring me.

  The cocaine was already en route to Harrisburg. I didn’t have to travel with that shit, since those days were over with.

  King Jose didn’t drink because he always wanted to be on point. Besides, that’s how his uncle got caught slipping. He was comfortable in his position of power, celebrating too much. These bitches seduced him, and it was a rap after that. King Jose later tracked down them bitches and tortured them before killing them slowly.

  “Amigo, let me know how things are with this product. I just got it in. I was told it is at least 90 percent. I don’t touch it. I want it to be the best.”

  “The best is good for the both of us. It means more money will be made,” I said while finishing my Long Island.

  I stood from the plush leather chair nodding my head as I exited. King Jose didn’t like to shake hands much either. His reason was that he didn’t want no one to get the drop on him. He was paranoid and had seen too many movies, I think.

  It didn’t take long for my flight back to PA. I made sure my driver took the work away at the stash spot. Then I made calls to all my clientele, so I could unload as much of this coke today as possible. Within the first seven calls to my associates in the surrounding counties, half of the work was sold.

  I was in the city out by the South Acres when I called Big Ivan to see where he was in the hood.

  “G’s up!” Big Ivan said into the phone.

  It was something we always did when answering the phone. It was some street code shit.

  “G’s up, what’s good with you, fam?”

  “Ain’t shit! I’m on the Hill pushing point uptown so I can grab some wings from the Chinese spot, Chans.”

  “I’ll meet you up there. Get me some wings if you get there before me.”

  “Alright, cuz.”

  Chans was in the hood on 8th and Maclay Street. It was the one spot everybody in the hood ate at when it came to Chinese grub.

  Big Ivan was parked when I pulled in. He jumped out of his whip into my truck as we waited on the food to get done.

  “What’s good, fam? I see you shining as always.”

  “You know how we do, cuz. If it ain’t official, we can’t rock it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Yo, you know I was down Miami with wifey trying to put that QT in since we go hard out here. While we was down there, I came across this nigga named Turnpike Tito. He’s a real boss down there.”

  “Yo, let’s grab this grub and you can finish telling me inside,” I said, feeling a little hungry.

  He continued to speak once we were inside the spot.

  “Yeah, this Spanish nigga was feeling my HBG swagga at this club we was at. He sent me and wifey a bottle over to our booth. So, to show my appreciation, I sent him a bottle of that King Louis XIII. You know, that expensive Hennessy?”

  “Cuz, you wild, but that’s some real shit.”

  “I ain’t done, cuz. Listen to this shit. After I sent the bottle over, I made my way over to him. His security stopped me, but he invited me in, and we started politicking on a whole another level. He mentioned that he wanted to expand further up north, so I mentioned how we do up here. We exchanged data. So, whenever you want to get at him, we can make it happen.”

  “Is he official?” I as
ked, knowing how vice is down there. They play the part, fooling most out-of-town niggas.

  “He the truth, cuz.”

  “We can fly out in the a.m., get a face-to-face, talk numbers, and go from there.”

  I was all for meeting new connects even though King Jose showed me love. I just wanted to expand just as any businessman should.

  We grabbed our food and made our way out of the Chinese spot, when slugs roared through the air, slamming into the closing doors and windows. I heard a slug hit Big Ivan’s BMW, which I knew made him heated.

  We both dropped our food and reached for the guns on our waist. When I locked up, I saw an arm pulling back inside of the white cargo van. Right then, I thought about the cargo vans I saw a few days ago. This wasn’t good. I needed to get these muthafuckas.

  Big Ivan jumped in his whip and mashed the gas. I was right behind him with adrenaline flowing. I was ready to kill these stupid muthafuckas.

  Big Ivan caught up to them first in the fast seven series, popping off shots out of the sunroof. Slugs slammed into the back of the cargo van.

  He attempted to pull to the side of the van until the oncoming traffic forced him back behind them. The van made a sharp right turn on Woodbine Street, with his tires screeching while heading toward Jefferson or 7th Street. I knew we needed to get these muthafuckas.

  Me and Big Ivan were on their ass as they turned right again onto 7th Street. It was only two lanes, the lane we were in and the oncoming lane, so I couldn’t go around like I wanted to. Once they got to the light, they raced through the red light, not wanting to risk getting cornered. Big Ivan raced behind them over the bridge as he popped another clip into his black steel nine. Slugs pierced the back door of the van, crashing into the driver and making him swerve. This shit was happening fast as they closed in on Cameron Street. I was thinking they were heading toward route I-81; instead, they turned toward the hood on Cameron Street with four lanes, two going one way and two going the other. There was plenty of room now.

  The back doors of the van swung open with a shooter taking aim at my cousin, until he sent slugs crashing into his face and slumping him instantly. The body fell out onto the busy street. Cars ran over it multiple times before they figured out what was going on. There was one more in the van, the driver.

  I raced to the driver’s side, rolling down my window just as the Arab muthafucka faced me with murder in his eyes. Right at that moment, I knew he was going to try some stupid shit. He veered left hard and fast. I slammed the brakes just as my instincts warned me. The van went into the next lane’s oncoming traffic as a big rig was coming 65 MPH, slamming into the cargo van and sounding off like a loud explosion. The driver was killed on impact as the steering wheel crushed his chest. The flames from the engine exploding engulfed his remains. I mashed the gas, looking through my mirror, hoping that no one was clocking our tags.

  I hit fam up on the cell.

  “Yo, meet me at your sis’s spot on Liberty Street,” I said, wanting to get cuz’s views on what just went down.

  He didn’t even say anything. We headed to my cousin’s crib. I hit Ace up, too, so I could put him onto what had just happened.

  CHAPTER 5

  MY COUSIN, EVA, LIVED on Liberty Street where we all linked up at. Eva didn’t play the streets, but she didn’t complain about the money we all gave her. Eva is Big Ivan’s big sister. She could’ve been a model or a Janet Jackson double growing up. Only difference, her eyes were grayish. It definitely made her stand out in the hood, being caramel brown, with long black hair and standing five foot nine as a model should.

  Anyway, Big Ivan took his greedy ass inside the crib as I waited outside to discuss business. My adrenaline was still racing from these crazy muthafuckas trying to take me and my cuz out.

  Ace came racing down the street in his whip with music blaring. He came to a halt and jumped out, leaving the door open and making the music louder as he came over to my truck.

  “What’s good, cuz?”

  “Ain’t shit! These Arab niggas just tried to take me and Ivan out.”

  “You talking about that crazy shit on Cameron? I just seen how they had that shit blocked off all crazy.”

  “Yeah, cuz! Them some stupid muthafuckas. They think shit is sweet.”

  Big Ivan was coming outside stuffing himself with a turkey sandwich.

  “Look at this nigga. That’s why my mom’s always shopping when he comes around,” Ace said before laughing. “Yo, give me a piece of that joint,” Ace said, not waiting on a response while reaching his hand out to grab a piece of the sandwich.

  Big Ivan gave him this look like, “This greedy muthafucka!”

  “I ain’t giving you shit no more, Ace!” Ivan snapped with brotherly love as he flexed and made Ace back up a little.

  “Yo, when you done stuffing your face, nigga, we out to Miami to take care of the BI you was putting me on to. Ace, we gonna need you to hold it down until we get back. Dump as much, if not all, of the work. Anything jump off, get at me,” I said, ready to step up my venture into this new business with this nigga Turnpike Tito.

  If he wasn’t who my cuz said he was, then I was going to leave him behind.

  When I got back from Miami, I was going to find out who these Arab muthafuckas really were, because it was clear they didn’t know who the fuck I was.

  Ace’s cell phone sounded off and got his attention. It was one of his chicks hitting him up. I could tell from the look on his face, plus he was quick to put us onto the call.

  “This bitch stay texting some freaky shit. She wants to give me head on the highway during rush hour. She gets off to people having the chance to see us freaking.”

  “That’s got to be that white bitch, Anita, you brought around last week?” I asked.

  “You already know, cuz. I’m out, cuz!” Ace said, pounding up.

  “Stay on top of business, not them hoes,” I said.

  “I make money; then make time for them hoes. Pussy only pay when you pimp’n,” Ace said with a smirk, before getting in his whip and racing off.

  My little cuz was definitely thorough and about his money. He was also a playboy when it came to the ladies.

  “Big Ivan, we out in my whip.”

  I’m ready to take care of this new business. I always kept travel money in my armrest. Twenty stacks were also enough to get away fast and far before the cops or any law enforcement would have a chance to catch up. Big Ivan, like me, had money, too, but he always made sure he didn’t starve. Plus, he liked spending money in the strip clubs and going to Miami. We made it rain down there.

  We headed to the airport and booked a flight on the first thing smoking. Once we got on the plane and headed to the Sunshine State, a drink was needed. I got a shot of Hennessy, while Big Ivan opted for vodka.

  “Toast to going down here and coming out on top with a good business deal,” my cousin said.

  “To family and good business,” I said, always wanting to put family first.

  We downed the shots before politicking about the crazy day we had thus far.

  Hours passed by, and the skies cleared as the plane descended into Miami. Palm trees and beautiful women set the scene. There were Latinas and white bitches with golden tans and blonde hair. We saw slates with caramel flawless-skinned bodies with curves. The smiles were welcoming, even the women working in the airport.

  “Yo, cuz, this is where it’s at.”

  “Wait ‘til we go to the clubs,” Big Ivan responded.

  “Call that nigga Tito, and let him know we here,” I said, wanting to put a face to this fly-ass street name.

  He sounded like he was in position, but vice could make some niggas believe them, too. If he was vice, he better have had the drop on me, because I’d choke the shit out of this nigga and take his gun. Shoot him with his own shit.

  My cuz hit this nigga Tito on the jack. I guess he didn’t recognize the 717 area code at first, since he didn’t pick up right away.

 
“Quien es ese?” he asked, not knowing it was my cuz.

  “Big Ivan from PA. We-!”

  It came to him; he remembered who cuz was.

  “Mi amigo, I remember Big Ivan. We met at the club.”

  “Yeah, that’s me. I flew in just now with my cuz I got at you about.”

  Turnpike Tito already knew what it was hittin’ for.

  “My friend, let me finish up here with this beautiful blanquita, and I call you back.”

  “I’ll be waiting on your call,” Big Ivan said.

  I knew that nigga Tito was either trying to make sure we were official or was setting a trap. Either way, I was thinking just as fast as he was if he was even thinking like me.

  We made our way to the Miami Hilton and checked into a suite. We ordered some food and got clothing to stunt for tonight after taking care of this business, if we even had time to do that. I was more focused on business.

  An hour passed by, and this nigga Tito hadn’t called yet.

  “Yo, cuz, what the fuck is up with your boy? He got us on standby like he forgot about a nigga.”

  “He was with some freak when I called him earlier. She got him whipped.”

  “If he a boss like you say he is, that bitch was off of him the minute you hung up. He probably making sure we are who you said we is. Either that or he vice.”

  “Tommy, why would you say some shit like that? You trying to make me paranoid, cuz?”

  “Options, always keep them open. Therefore you’ll run into less surprises, nigga.”

  Big Ivan’s phone sounded off. It was Tito. Cuz pointed to the phone before answering. Tito gave cuz instructions on where to meet. He even sent a limo to the hotel. How he knew that we were here was another thing I was trippin’ on. Truth be told, I was leaning more now to him being a boss and cautious about who he was dealing with, especially having us meet him at the Miami ports.

  The ride in the limo was quiet. We were both thinking about this business deal while at the same time keeping our eyes open. It was the level of paranoia kicking in being in this business; besides, the day we had so far didn’t help.