“We shootin' this muthafucka up on camera. Let 'em know we can play internet games too,” I told them.
I pulled my phone out while they spread apart. “Won't be no more diss tracks made in here!” I yelled from behind the camera.
I made sure no faces could be seen, just the building and their backs.
Yoppa! Yoppa! Yoppa! Boca! Boca!
We chopped that bitch down, then burnt rubber, getting up outta there. I felt good as a muthafucka real shit. It wasn't nothing like crushin' an enemy. I posted the video on Snapchat and Instagram, then decided to send Marshawn a text.
But when I got to my texts, I noticed that all my texts and videos with Olay had been sent to Shanell. Sneaky bitch. I didn't know why the fuck she had done that. I figured she wanted time to really go through them. I didn't see the logic in that, but oh well.
“Where we going now, son?” Beast wanted to know.
“Let's head to the spot and lay low for a couple of hours, then get back to it. And turn that back to back, back on. That's my shit,” I replied.
When the song dropped, I couldn't help but to smile. They gon' be sick in the morning. Killing Ruger didn't erase the pa.in from my heart, but it sho made me feel better. I laid back and let the dead man rap to me.
Keep it real you like my son, nigga. And you ain't half the man without that gun, nigga. We going back to back, we can't wait till we catch 'em. Beast gon' give 'em mouth to mouth, while Premo put 'em on the stretcher. We’re going back to back, like it's lethal weapon. Lord, I'ma kill my enemies. It's my friends that need protection.
Chapter 13
O-dawg
March 15th
“What you wanna be when you get older, Mar-Mar?” I asked my son.
We were sitting on the couch eating breakfast the morning I had to take him back to his mama. I'd made her give 'em up the same day Tamia and the baby were allowed to come home. He needed to meet and be around his baby sister and I didn't give a fuck how she felt about it.
But surprisingly, she gave him up with no hesitation or argument. It was almost like she'd pushed the lil' nigga off on me. I didn't like that shit one bit. I had the gut feeling she was messing with some nigga and that wasn't about to fly with me. I'ma find out where she lives now.
I wanna be a rapper like you, daddy,” my son answered with his mouth full.
A rapper. Just hearing that shit made my heart hurt. It forced me to think about Ruger and I'd tried my hardest to block out the thoughts and pain for the last day or so. I hadn't left the house for days, not even when Ruger got smoked at the studio.
Fuck was you thinking? I asked his spirit for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, I had to squeeze my eyes shut in order to block it out.
But it was because I felt responsible. I knew I shouldn't of let him ride out with us. I knew he wasn't ready! It's more to this war shit than just bustin' yo’ gun. Them pussies woulda never been able to get in that studio if that had been me or Bleed. We had the one thing Ruger didn't have, experience. And that shit cost my nigga his life.
“Naw, I want you to be something different than a rapper, Mar-Mar,” I responded.
“What?”
“I don't know. Play basketball or somethin', but I don't want you to be a rapper though.”
“Why?” He stared at me really wanting to know. But I didn't know how to explain to him that being a rapper usually came with being in the streetz. I know it's a whole lot of niggaz transforming characters when they stepped in the booth but my son wasn't going out like that. He had too much real nigga blood pumping in his body. My phone went off.
“What's mobbin'?” I answered for Juice.
“I know you heard about last night? I needa holla at you ASAP.”
He must have been the one who crushed Lil Shawn. One of the main niggaz from the Goonies had gotten killed in the North. It had been so much beef going on in Portland, there was no telling who killed who. But when my team didn't call last night and bragged about it, I chopped it up to some other niggaz. I'd forgotten I'd put the bag on them suckaz heads.
“A'ight, coo'. I been posted in the house the last few days. I'ma text you the info just come over here,” I told him.
“A'ight, bet.”
I hung up, then texted him my address. I usually didn't let nobody outside of my inner Mob circle know where I rested my head at, but Juice had earned my respect and trust.
“I'll be back, lil' nigga.” I left my son playing with his food.
When I made it to my bedroom, I found Tamia in the bathroom brushing her hair. I stood there watching her for a minute. She a good bitch. She smiled at me through the mirror when she finally saw me.
“Hi, daddy.” Her words were music to my ears. “ I cooked breakfast for you. It's downstairs.”
She turned around and kissed me deeply in the mouth. I held her for a few moments after we were done kissing. The love I had for her had magnified by a ton since she'd had my daughter. I hadn't left her side for a single moment since she was released.
“It's killin' you inside to be here right now.” She spoke the truth, which was also the elephant in the room.
“You and the baby are the most important thing right now. I gotta make sure y'all good before I can handle my business out in the streets.”
“I know, but I don't like seeing you like this, baby. Right now you’re a hostage and we need a volunteer. Just go do what you needa do, then come back with a clear mind. I know Ruger getting killed is really fuckin' with you. I can see it all on your face. Do what you gotta do. Just make sure you come home at night.” She kissed me again, then walked out.
I followed her to our daughter's crib and just stared at my newborn with nothing but love. Having a daughter really did something to me in the inside. At the same time, it made me wanna go harder on my enemies so I could make it back home to her every night.
I kissed my sleeping daughter on the cheek, then sat on the edge of the bed. Tamia came and sat on my lap. She knew I was fighting a war inside.
“I needa hurry up and finish this shit. It's really starting to drain me, baby. Every time I turn around, I got a new enemy coming for my crown. We gotta crush all of them right now before it get's outta hand,” I said, speaking my mind to her.
It might be time to stop.” I twisted my neck and looked at her like she was crazy. “I meant after you’re done handling everything,” she quickly corrected herself.
“I'll think about it after they're all dead.”
She started rubbing my neck and shoulders. “We need you alive and outta jail.”
“All this coming from a bitch that shot a nigga at a rap concert.”
We both busted out laughing at the memory. “I was turned all the way up back then,” she said, still laughing a lil' bit.
My phone went off with a text message. It was Juice letting me know he was pulling up.
“I'ma bout to discuss business in the basement, baby. Can you get Mar-Mar ready for me? I'ma take 'em to his mama when I'm done. Then I gotta bust a few moves.” I got to the door, then she called me.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” She was getting teary eyed.
“Love you too, baby. Don't worry about nothin'. Ain't shit gon' happen to me.” Then I walked off to the front door.
I opened the gate and waited at the door for him. He looked around the house as he made his way over. “This spot big ass a muthafucka, nigga.” We shook up, then headed to the basement.
“Yeah, I worked hard for this shit, blood. A lot of blood has been spilled in order for me to live like this,” I let him know as we walked down the stairs.
We sat down on the couches and got to business. “And speaking of spilled blood, I spilled some for you last night. I caught the nigga Lil Shawn in the Ville and fucked him around real bad, all head shots. I guarantee those niggaz are sick right now,” he told me.
I nodded in agreement. They sick right now. Lil Shawn was one of their main shooters and his name had been ringing be
lls recently. It always hurt when a squad lost one of they're killaz, especially when it was war time or were on the rise. And those pussies fell under both categories.
I smiled at the news then walked over to the closet where I kept a nice amount of my money. I grabbed two stacks of ten thousand wrapped in rubber bands and brought it over to him.
“I've never brought anybody to my house that I didn't consider family,” I tossed the money over to him. “I consider you family, my nigga.” He shook me up with a smirk on his face.
I fuckz with you the long way and you know that. I look at you like fam too, but I hope this ain’t another one of your recruiting tactics. You know I'm not with that follow the leader shit.”
“Naw, nothin' like that.” I shook my head at him. “I was just thinking about all the snake niggaz that revealed themselves this past year. And I've been thinking about the real niggaz that's been killed too. That shit been fuckin' with me hard. You ain’t never switched up on a nigga and that's a rare trait. You got that shit from yo’ brother.” I pointed at his big brother’s chain around his neck.
He grabbed the medallion, which spelled out Juice and held it tightly. I saw the anger and pain flash across his eyes. Seeing your big brother get killed in front of you will do that to you.
“Yeah, you right and I'm sorry to hear about what happened to Ruger. He was a coo' nigga,” he replied.
It was my turn to try and swallow the pain that came with this game. It was a lot of pain and hurt weighing my heart down, but revenge kept the blood in my veins flowing. I knew it was time to hit the streets and make 'em bleed for Ruger.
Me and Juice chopped it up for another twenty minutes, then I walked him out and put on my ridin' gear. It was time to go to work. I kissed my two girls goodbye, then left with my son in my arms. I stepped out into the sun with plans on making it rain bullets on my enemies.
I texted my niggaz that I was on the way, then peeled out. My face hadn't been seen in days, but I was about to make niggaz remember my name. I thought about all the posts they made about Ruger over the past few days.
Niggaz shot my studio up. I couldn't wait to snatch one of those pussies’ souls. They gon' die for what they did to you, Ruger.
It took over thirty minutes for me to drive all the way to Jack in the Box off of 190th and Burnside. The whole area over here was known as the Rockwoods because of the huge apartment complex that took up a couple blocks. Why the fuck she over here? She bet not live over here, I thought to myself as I remembered what we did to the Crips that lived in those apartments on New Years Eve.
I smiled to myself thinking about when we was all together. Fuck them niggaz. I quickly wiped that soft shit off of my face. Thinking about the past would only get me killed. That shit didn't exist anymore. It was war time.
“You ready to see ya mama?” I asked my son as I pulled up a few feet from her Range Rover.
“Yup! There she go!” He got all excited, pointing at her truck.
I hopped out into the sun and looked around for any sign of my enemies like usual. I didn't see shit except for a few parked cars on the street and a lotta traffic. Burnside Street was one of the busiest streets in South East Portland and the max train ran from one end to the other. I grabbed my son and took him to Olay since she didn't wanna get outta the car. She must got an attitude.
“Hi, mommy!” Mar-Mar yelled as I put him in his car seat.
She turned around. “Hi, baby,” she replied, then looked at me. “You feel like talking?” she asked.
That took me by surprise. “Yeah, we can talk.” I closed my son’s door, then went and hopped in the passenger’s seat.
“You smell hella good.” I told her the truth. She smiled at me like she used to, but her eyes were telling a different story.
“Thank you,” she responded, then started talking back on the phone.
“Yeah, it's all fine. I'm good,” she said. I sat there listening to her repeat “yeah” for a couple seconds like I wasn't even there.
“You gon' talk on the phone or talk to me?” She knew I hated that shit.
“Hold up a minute.” She put her index finger in the air.
A'ight, bitch. I was gone play her lil' game for now. She must of felt like flexing her lil' power before she started giving in. I knew how my bitch operated. I smirked to myself at how women loved playing games. I leaned back, getting real comfortable, preparing myself for the wait. Then I saw I'd left my car door open and it was still running. Let me turn the engine off. I opened the door and only got one foot out before she gave me her attention.
“Don't leave. I'm about to hang up right now.” She sounded desperate.
“I gotta fix my car real quick since we gon' be here awhile.” Then I hopped out.
I closed the backdoor and heard a car across the street do the same thing. I stared at it for a second, then went and pushed the button, turning my engine off. I was gone hop straight back in the car with Olay, but decided I was gone play her game against her. I leaned on my hood and called Bleed. Let's see who gives up first!
Chapter 14
Burnside
“What the fuck is this nigga doing?” Ralo asked us in frustration like we had a muthafuckin' idea. Me, him, Beast and Premo were sittin' in a stolen Astro Van parked across the street from the Jack in the Box. OG Braze and Tre were parked further down the street just waiting on the word. I really didn't wanna bring those niggaz with us, but I had to keep the plug happy.
“Talkin' on the phone, son,” Beast stated the obvious. We were staring at Marshawn with anxious hearts as he leaned on his Maserati talking on the phone.
My grip got so tight on the .45, my hand was wrapped around it. Watching his bitch ass stand there by himself like he was untouchable was driving me crazy. I couldn't wait to put two bullets in the back of his head. Bitch nigga. I could tell he was rockin' a vest under his champion hoody but it wasn't gone save his ass. We weren’t planning on shooting below the neck.
“Tell him to get back in the car,” I told Olay. We had missed the perfect opportunity when he was sitting in her car because the police had drove by across the street fuckin' our timing up. Lucky nigga.
“Why don't y'all just do it now while he's standing there. That way it don't have to be so close to my son,” she shot back, pissing me the fuck off.
“She got a point,” Ralo spoke up, losing his patience. I instantly regretted having her on speakerphone.
“'Cause we're not close enough, that's why. Plus, once we catch 'em in the car with you, he ain't gon' put up a fight 'cause of Mar-Mar being right there, trust me. And we want him alive so we can force him to come off that fortune he's sittin' on. Just stick to the plan and tell that bitch nigga to get in the car,” I spat.
I hung up on her ass, then watched her lean out the window and wave Marshawn over. I couldn't make out all her words, but I'm sure they involved beggin' him to get in. He put his hands up for her to hold on.
“This bitch ass nigga killed my family and he standing there like he fuckin' King Tut or somethin',” Ralo growled.
I could hear and feel my nigga losing his patience and I more than understood his pain. I couldn't wait to torture the bitch nigga for hours and hours. When Marshawn started walking over towards the driver’s door instead of the passenger side, I called Olay back. I had a feeling he wasn't getting back in the car. She answered just as he walked up.
“We gon' have to talk another time, Olay. Somethin' just came up,” I heard Marshawn say.
Fuck! Don't let 'em leave! My mind instantly started trying to come up with a new plan. We all looked at each other at the same time thinking the same thing.
“What? No, I don't think so. Get in this car so we can talk. You’re always runnin' off when it's time to face our problems.” Oh, she's good. I'ma have to watch her ass.
“I'll hit you later.” Then he spun around, walking back to his whip.
My mind was still scrambling for a plan when Ralo blurted out, “ 'm bo
ut to kill this nigga!”
“Naw, we gon' follow him to his spots, then kill 'em,” I responded.
“Fuck that! He killed my family!” he shot back, then slid the door open before I could respond.
He bounced out with his burner aimed at Marshawn from across the street. Don't shoot yet! We weren't close enough for a kill shot. I hoped Ralo understood that as I hopped out behind him. Beast and Premo jumped out right behind me. It was do or die time and I planned on killing this nigga right now!
With every step I took, I found it harder and harder not to bust the gun. We were actually gaining ground on the nigga and he was still focused on his phone call while he walked. Then he looked our direction and froze up for a second. Yeah, nigga. We here! My heart sped up.
“What's up now, nigga!” Ralo yelled, then started letting his bullets fly.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boca! Boca! Boca!
We all started letting his bitch ass have it! I was squeezing my trigga so hard, I thought I was gone break it. With every squeeze, I felt a piece of anger fly outta me. His hoe ass didn't even shoot back like the killah he claimed to be. He ran a few long strides and jumped in his car like a real bitch.
We kept runnin' up, dumping shot after shot into his car, tryna put some hot shit in him. Then I realized why he did what he did. We were shooting for no reason. I stopped wasting my bullets. I just stood there watching my niggaz think they were doing something. They were right up on the car firing that muthafucka up.
He finally skirted out, making them get out the way or get run over. But they still shot the sides up as he passed us. I watched him flee with his life yet again.
Yoppa! Yoppa! Yoppa! Yoppa! Yoppa! Yoppa!
OG Braze and Tre tried to chop him down with them Choppaz, but that shit didn't work at all. They thought they had him boxed in by standing on the side of the exit route with them AKs. His Maserati ate them bullets up with no problem as he bended the corner.
“Muthafucka!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I looked around and noticed Olay's truck gone. She must of backed out the other exit.
Protect Me From My Friends Page 15
