It was all over after another minute and I was happy about that. I took no pleasure in watching women die. But it was either her or me and she didn't stand a chance with that one.
Twin finally let her body hit the floor, then had to bend over to catch his breath. I screwed my face up at the foul stench that attacked the air. I looked down and saw she had pissed and shitted on herself. Ughh!
“C'mon, Blood. Let's go.” I turned around and left that room in a hurry.
“Fuck, that shit was a real workout fo' real. You ever choke a muthafucka to death?” Twin asked after we got back inside the car.
“Yo, you need to see a psychologist or somethin', blood, ‘cause you looked like you were really enjoying yourself. Let me find out you was raping them bitches down in Atlanta.”
We busted out laughing as he pulled out the lot, but the laughter was short lived. Soon as we turned down the street, a cop car slowly drove past us, scaring the shit outta us. My breath got caught in my chest and my heart skipped a beat. Got damn. I gripped the pistol with all my strength, ready to put it to work if I had to.
“I ain't going back to jail for a body,” I whispered to Twin.
“I ain't either, on Burnside,” he growled back.
When he adjusted his gun on his lap, I knew he was dead serious. The cop stared in the car as we passed each other. I don't think I took a breath for the next two seconds. I felt the sweat inside my gloves piling up on my hands.
I took a deep breath once he got a few feet behind us and didn’t hit a U-turn or hit the sirens. I kept staring through the mirror to see if he was turning into the apartments. When he didn't, I finally got my voice back.
“Nigga, you was over there ready to piss on yo’self, scary ass nigga,” I said, pointing at him.
“Nigga, what? I was ready to bang it out on sight! You was over there farting and shit, saying prayers and all type of shit. You probably ready to cancel the next mission and go home. Tell the truth.” He laughed in my face.
“Ain't no way I'm passing up on this body. Head to the club.”
I sat back and started visualizing how I was gonna shoot the shit outta our next victim. The night was far from over. We had a nice play set up that just fell in our lap about an hour before we headed to Tisha's spot.
Oh, shit. Let me check. I pulled my phone out, checking my texts. No new ones from Juice. Good! That meant our victim was still on Ice. A smile appeared on my face as I thought of the blow this was gone have on Burnside's crew. I couldn't wait to make them pussies sick. They thought they were actually doing something by shooting up a bunch of nobodies. The joke was about to be on them.
Twenty minutes later, we were posted up in the parking lot of Dream on a poppin' strip club right off 162nd and Stark. We got the word that the nigga Killah was hanging out inside like everything was all good. Like he didn't have no real wolves on his ass, but that was gone cost him. That's how shit worked in Portland since the black community wasn't that big.
If you had a name and decided to hit the clubs, best believe niggaz was gone find out. All it took was for one person to make the right call and half the city knew where you were. Unfortunately for Killah, he never learned this or he just didn't give a fuck. Either way, he was dead.
I went to Burnside's Instagram page and started scrolling through his followers so I could find Killah's page. After I found it, I checked his recent posts, but none were from that night.
“Yo’, you said he wearing a red champion sweater?” Twin asked, breaking my concentration.
I looked up in a hurry tryna spot whoever he was looking at. “Yeah, you see 'em?”
“Naw, dawg. I'm just checking. We should just run up in there 'cause I ain't tryna be sittin' here all fuckin' night,” he complained.
“It don't matter how long it take, blood. We killin' this nigga, tonight. Juice said his peoples told him that oh boy is in here slippin'. This is an easy body we ain't passing up.
Think about yo’ brother, nigga. Now we gone sit right here until this pussy come out. Then we knockin' him down right here in front of everybody. Juice said he'll give us the word when he leaves so just sit tight.”
Twin leaned the seat back and got real relaxed. I knew his patience was wearing thin, but he would do anything to retaliate for his brother. My nigga was too anxious to bust his gun and that could be turned into a weakness sometimes.
“Every minute I gotta wait, dawg, is an extra bullet I'm putting in his hoe ass.” He gritted his teeth. I looked out the window, taking any and everything in. We were positioned in the perfect spot to hop out and get our man, then flee the scene with no hiccups.
Our car was about thirty feet from the main entrance and facing the exit perfectly. My side of the car was closest to the front door, so I kept my eyes glued to it. I kept envisioning how it was gonna look when we bounced out and got to gunnin'. I hoped he didn't leave when everybody else decided to and walked out with a crowd. Either way, we were slumping him, no questions asked.
“I wish we knew what kinda whip he pulled up in,” I said after twenty minutes of waiting.
I was already tired of straining my neck to watch the front door. I was suppose to receive a text when he was leaving, but I wasn't about to leave our prey's life in the hands of some drunk niggaz.
“I still think we should just run up in there.” His reply didn't surprise me at all.
I shook my head at his dumb ass and focused back on the front. Before I knew it, my mind had drifted off thinking about Olay. So much of my life had revolved around her for so long that without her, it seemed empty.
I loved Tamia like a muthafucka but I had Olay when I had nothing, so the feelings were different. I'ma have to get my bitch back, I thought to myself. Naw, fuck her. She pulled a pistol on you.
My thoughts were everywhere. I was going through it over her punk ass. I sent her a text message letting her know I still loved her. After waiting for a few minutes with no reply, I put it back up. Dumb bitch. It took another hour of waiting, but it finally happened. My phone went off with a text from Juice.
Coming yo’ way!
My adrenaline got to rushing after I realized what I read.
“It's time, nigga!” I shoved Twin on the shoulder knocking him outta his daze.
He shot straight up. “'Bout time. Where he at?”
I put my face on the window. “I don't see 'em yet. I just got a text sayin' he on his way though, so turn the engine on and get ready.”
Two minutes later, we watched a small group walk out the doors. It was two niggaz and three bitches, but I only recognized one. There he is. Killah stood out due to his height, long dreads, and red sweater he had on.
“There he go dawg,” Twin spoke in a low demonic voice.
They paused like they were tryna remember where they parked at, then headed right towards us.
We bounced out with only one intention, to take a suckaz’ soul. I took long strides with the pistol hanging down by my leg, begging me to lift him up for action. The nigga Killah had his arms wrapped around two of the bitches’ necks like he was some type of playboy or somethin'.
It took all the patience inside of me to stop myself from bustin' until I was right up on him. With each step I took, my mood got darker and darker. I was finally gonna get one of the traitors responsible for Gotti and that shit had my anxiety on overdrive. My focus was locked in on specifically him. I was on some real terminator shit. Take a deep breath. I know what I'm doing.
He finally saw us and knew what time it was, but it was too late. I could see his heart trying to jump outta his chest from fear. He yanked his arm from around the girl but it didn't matter. Like Steph Curry, we were deadly when in shooting range.
“This for Gotti, nigga!” I yelled out.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
He took one to the chest that turned him around. He tried to shove the girl in our line of sight, but all she did was fall to the ground. The other two bitches screamed while running off.
His mans reached at his waist like he planned on going out with a bang.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
We lit him up and watched him snake to the concrete. Killah got about five feet before he stumbled, then crashed into a parked car. He just stood there leaning against it, tryna gather his breath like he didn't have two lions behind him. I guess he thought he was a fuckin' ostrich or somethin'.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Twin shot him in the ass and legs, dropping him to the ground. “Agghh!” he yelled out, while rolling over on his back. I stood over him casting the last dark shadow over him that he'd ever see. It was nothing but fear in his soft ass eyes. “How you a killah, dying with no gun? I'll see you when I get there, nigga,” I spat with no remorse.
“Wait, no—” His words were cut short.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
We shot the shit outta him. His body kept bouncing off the pavement with each slug that tore through him. We hit him everywhere from the stomach to his forehead, leaving a trail of smoke pouring outta his body. We sprinted back to the whip and got the hell up outta there. I cracked my first genuine smile in months.
We had finally got one of their main niggaz and it felt good to get one up. I couldn't wait to see them bitch ass niggaz posting there sad ass pictures and comments on social media. We was gone wake the town up with this one and put some fear back in niggaz’ hearts.
“We crushed that bitch ass nigga, dawg! Them pussies die real easy on their side.” Twin was hella sparked to finally body one of them too.
“Yeah his hoe ass was getting ready to beg us for mercy. Nigga ain't even have a gun! I can't wait to catch the rest of 'em, fuckin' suckaz,” I shot back with equal enthusiasm.
I checked out the back window making sure the boyz weren't behind us. I exhaled real deep when I seen the coast was clear.
***
The next day, I had everybody meet at the Mob Quarter studio so we could go over our game plan. Plus I wanted to drop a diss track on them suckaz. I planned on really rubbing it in on those faggots. I'd been monitoring their Instagram pages all morning and the shit I seen had really put a smile on my face. Fuck them niggaz!
“These muthafuckaz on here dry snitchin' again, on me.” Bleed held his phone up so we could read the screen. The bitch nigga Head posted a tough guy picture of Killah holding an AK-47 with MK (Mob-Killah) for the caption. And as usual, there was a whole bunch of internet thugs on there talking shit like they was gone see us.
“That's all they do, blood, knowing damn well that Gang task be on niggaz’ pages and shit,” Phatz said with a look of disgust on his face.
“It don't matter 'cause they all gone be dead real soon. I'ma make sure of that. We not hustlin’, partying or none of that shit until they're all dead. Ain't nothin' changed,” I informed my squad.
A few of them sucked their teeth like females.
“That shit don't make no sense, blood, on me. Why the hell are we putting our shit on hold to look for these niggaz? All we’re doing is playing into them niggaz’ hands by doing that shit, blood. We already got niggaz out here talkin' about Burnside is pushin' us out and taking our clients. They been telling everybody they gone kill whoever deal with us and you wanna help this pussy look good? And at the same time, hurt our own pockets? Hell naw, blood.”
I don't care how it looks, Blood. I care about the end result. Fuck focusing on selling dope, nigga. We only need to be worried about killin' our enemies. Once that's done, then we can get back to the money and the bitches. So if y'all want that shit bad enough, then go snatch them niggaz’ souls,” I spat back with fire.
Nobody had nothing to say about it. Not that it woulda mattered anyway 'cause there was no changing my mind at all. I knew what needed to be done and I was hell bent on making it happen by any means necessary.
“Let's just hurry up and kill them niggaz so we can get back to this money. It ain't hard. Y'all remember how we did the Gutta Squad? We gone keep applying pressure on them suckaz until they fold, period,” Phatz spoke up.
Everybody nodded their heads in agreement, feeling where he was coming from. I knew they weren't 100% feelin' me, but they knew in their hearts, they knew this was the right way to move. I stood up with a smile on my face, knowing exactly what my crew needed to hear to uplift their spirits.
“Yo, Ruger. You ready?” He stood up and nodded with a smile. “I got some new shit for y'all niggaz. Y'all gone love this. It's called March Madness.” Soon as the words left my mouth, all those niggaz started cheesing. Street niggaz loved diss tracks. It was in our D.N.A.
Ruger went and got behind the computer while I walked into the booth. I did my rituals like always, then looked at my niggaz pointing their phones at me. It made me think about the old days when shit was all good. When it used to be Boobie, Gotti, Burnside, Trell, Jersey Hoe and sometimes, even Falcon standing in those exact spots with their phones out cheering me on.
My mind even flashed on Spike for a split second. Damn. I shook my head at the old thoughts and the ones that would never happen. The beat dropped and I got back into beast mode.
“March Madness, we dropped another body. What a celebration I might cop another Maserati. Draco with a hunnid drum. Yeah, them niggaz hella done. How a so called Killah get killed and didn't have a gun?
But they do that where them niggaz from. Talk tough inside of clubs, meet the wolves then he tried to run. Put Burnside in cast last time we gunned 'em down.
And tell that short bald nigga we gone hunt him down. Still got money from last year I ain't had to count. We gone reunite Ralo with his family just to make 'em smile. Big brother dead, know you still shedding tears. Was a bitch before he died, on bloods you shoulda saw the fear. Since you such a goon, why ain't nobody die?
We making this shit look easy, I ain’t gone even lie. Premo a hoe, he gone be the first to testify. The mob put Joe in that pine box and made his body fly. Somebody tell the Goonies they on my kill list. And how the fuck they claim they goonz but ain’t killed shit? Better ask about the team blood we play with gunz. And on Gotti, y'all losing a body before April come.”
I signaled with my hands for Ruger to kill the track, then stepped outta the booth.
“That's what the fuck I'm talkin' about. Fuck then niggaz, on me.” Bleed shook me up with a grin on his face. He had forgotten the fact he was just mad at me.
The looks on all their faces was totally different than the ones just minutes before. Now their blood was really pumping and they were ready to kill somethin'. I never doubted their gangstas or their will to kill 'cause that had already been proven beyond a reasonable doubt.
I was just tired of them taking this shit for granted like it was guaranteed we were gonna win the war. And anybody that's played in the game of death already knows there's no such thing as a guarantee. The only guarantee in this game was that some niggaz were gonna die and the rest were going to go to jail.
As I searched my niggaz’ faces, I had a chill run down my spine. It just hit me outta nowhere. For some reason I felt like this was going to be our last time in the studio together. Just how all the old faces had disappeared that used to stand in the same exact spots, so would these. I just couldn't shake the feeling. We gotta kill these niggaz ASAP, I promised myself. I sat down with a heavy heart while they posted the video all online and talked shit. Then I got the call that would change my life up.
“What's up, baby?” I answered for Tamia.
“Marshawn, this ain't Tamia. It's Mrs. Ramirez.”
Aww, shit. What the fuck her mama want with me? We'd never seen eye to eye or been coo' with each other.
“A'ight, how you doing? What's going on?”
“Tamia's water just broke. We're on the way to Providence right now!” she yelled, sounding half excited and half afraid.
I jumped off the couch like the muthafucka was on fire. “I'm on the way right now!” I hung up without hearing her reply.
“What's the triv, nig
ga?” Bleed asked, looking like he was ready to ride at the very moment.
“Ain’t no triv. Tamia's water just broke and her bougie ass mama is taking her to Providence right now!” I yelled in excitement.
Everybody got to grabbing their shit in a rush and breaking up outta there. I ran and hopped in the 'Rati by myself and peeled out the lot burning rubber everywhere. It was still broad daylight. We were bending corners and runnin' red lights like the shit was legal. You would of thought she was being kidnapped instead of giving birth by the way we were acting.
I had a huge ass smile on my face the whole time I was committing traffic violations. Once we hit the freeway, it was over! I leaned down on the pedal and got 100 miles per hour real quick. Here I come, baby girl. There was no way I was missing my daughter being born for nothin'.
I felt so good, so alive. It had been a rough couple months but all the stress and heartache got erased as I raced down the highway. Nothing in the world mattered at that moment except Tamia and my unborn child. I was on top of the world. I pulled into the lot twenty minutes later and jumped out, barley parking the 'Rati.
I ran into the building straight to the desk and asked the receptionist which room was my bitch in. Soon as the words left her mouth, I shot down the hallway. I could hear my niggaz way behind me telling me to wait up, but I wasn't tryna hear that shit.
I took the stairs two at a time all the way to the third floor. When I finally made it to the waiting room, I was outta breath but still determined. The only reason I stopped was because of Tamia's dad who was sitting right there, staring at me like I'd lost my mind. I walked over to him barley breathing.
“What's up, Mr. Ramirez? Why you sittin' out here?” I asked.
“Ain't no reason to be in there yet. She barely having contractions, so it's gone be hours until it's time for her to drop. Plus I ain't tryna see that nasty shit no more. I seen it enough with her mama.” He was dead ass serious too.
Protect Me From My Friends Page 13
