Hustlin’ Hard
Life
is too short to wake up with regrets. Love those who treat you right and forget
the ones who don’t!
“Dog, this shit been gravvy, the last two weeks we done made over
five grand, doing nothing.”
“Yeah, dog. Shit, been popping since we, well, since I left
school, and you got expelled.” Pokey said.
“Hell yeah, dog, we been on the grind heavy. Everything seems to
be falling in place like a puzzle,” Fatboy said.
“We making money, and business is booming. At least that’s what
Mr. Big is telling us being that we been opening and closing, while Boo Boo and
Shine make runs look like we got what we want,” Pokey said.
“What’s that, dog?” Fatboy asked.
“Our own trap house.”
“Yeah, we doing us. But you forgot I got court today. And if them
crackers lock my ass up you know you on your own, till Flick come home from
school,” Fatboy said.
“Yeah, dog, I’m praying for the best but imagining the worst. Feel
me? ’Cause without you shit want to be the same. Damn, I hope these crackers
spare you.” Pokey said.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Dog, we gotta start being extra careful. If them crackers lock
you up, when you jump, we gotta have a plan. Remember what Mr. Big’s told us?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Fatboy said. “It’s two things you got to
preserve in life: your health, followed by your freedom. You lose one, you lose
both.”
“Yeah, but life’s challenges shouldn’t paralyze you. They’re to
help you discover who you really are,” Fatboy said. “If they lock me up, dog,
it’s just a setback that I’ll use to make me stronger here,” he said, tapping
the side of his head.
“Word,” Pokey said.
“Ay,” Fatboy.
“Yeah, dirty. Did they tell you what judge you had?”
“Some cracker name Futch,” Fatboy said.
“Damn, they giving you the meanest judge on the bench.”
“It is what it is,” Fatboy said.
“The cracker nasty-ass fuck, that’s the one who gave me those
eighteen months,” Pokey said.
“Yeah, an’ this your what five or six time in trouble. The cracker
can’t be too bad! Anyways, dog, I’mma let go and let God. Feel me?” Fatboy
asked.
“Hold up, nigga, when you became all religious?”
“Oh, I ain’t religious. I just believe in a higher power, that’s
all,” Fatboy said.
“Look, let’s go get our hustle on till it’s time to roll over to
the courthouse. Let’s ride then you know how we do. I bet them niggas Boo Boo
and Shine in here knocked out.”
“Probably is. Shit, I would be sleep too if I didn’t have to open
up shop with your ass,” Fatboy, said laughing.
“Nigga, if them crackers look your ass up today, trust me you’ll
get more than enough sleep,” Pokey said, playing with his dog. As he took out
his key and opened the door, “Damn, this bitch stink-ass fuck,” Pokey said as
he opened the door.
“Yeah, dog, leave the door open and let this bitch air out,”
Fatboy said, taking a whiff of the foul-smelling odor. Looking ’round the room
he saw where the smell was coming from Double D.
“Nigga, get your azz up and get outta here.”
“Damn, nigga, you done shitted on yourself.”
“What? Huh? Oh, what’s up, jitty bugs?” Double D said.
“Nigga, fuck all that,” Pokey said, touching his side. “What the
hell you doing in here? And where the fuck Shine and Boo Boo at?”
“Man, y’all chill out. Y’all act like a nigga done rob y’all or
some shit. Them niggas Shine and Boo Boo told me I could chill here till this
morning ’cause the police was looking for me.”
“Look like ya ass was high off crack to me,” Pokey said. “Man,
let’s find out if this nigga telling the truth. Ay yo, Shine, Boo Boo, man,
y’all check this out.”
“What’s up? What the fuck you yelling a nigga name all loud and
shit for? A nigga trying to sleep and y’all acting like the police coming or
some shit,” Boo Boo said, wiping sleep from his eyes with Shine looking crazy
as a motherfucker, holding his pistol.
“Look y’all told this nigga he could crash here.”
“Oh yeah, we did that. The nigga said he was running from the
police, so I told him he could chill till this morning. Why, what’s up?” Shine
asked. “What he did?”
“For one he shitted on his self, and two the nigga is a baser,”
Fatboy said, looking at Double D wiping his nose with the back of his hands.
“Man, he a friend of my momma, so he a friend of ours,” Boo Boo
said, feeling sorry for Double D.
“Whatever, man,” Pokey said. “All right, Double D, get your ass up
and get outta here.”
“Ay, Double D, I hope it’s no hard feelings, old school,” Fatboy
said.
“Na’ll, dog, we cool,” Double D said, walking out the door.
“Hey, Pok, give me a pack,” Fatboy said.
“For what, dog?”
“Man, just give me a fifty pack. I’ll pay for it.”
“Huh then,” Pokey said, tossing his dog a fifty, watching Fatboy
run to the door.
“Ay, Double D, here you go, old school,” Fatboy said, tossing
Double D the pack. “No hard feelings, right?” Fatboy asked.
“I told you, jit, we were cool, but thanks anyway,” Double D, said
shooting a bird and running off like a kid on Christmas day.
“Dog,
why you gave that nigga that?” Pokey asked.
“To keep the nigga on our team. I said some flaw shit to the man,
and you never know how people take words,” Fatboy said. “Dog, remember life is
too short to wake up with regrets. Love those who treat you right and fuck the
ones who don’t.”
“My bad, dog, you dead-ass right. That was a slick ass move,”
Pokey said.
As Boo Boo and Shine watched with pride, “How these young nigga
just handled that!”
“Look, let’s get this shit started,” Pokey said, “’cause I won’t
be here too long, ’round 12:30 we out. Fatboy got court today, and I gotta see
what these crackers trying to do with my dirty,” Pokey said.
“Ay, Pokey, you got a custy at the door nigga Bright and Earle.”
“What’s up, old school? You trying to catch the worm?”
“Na’ll young in, I’m trying to get high, but I got like five
dollars, and a nick ain’t gonna do shit for me. So can I get a dime and I’ll
pay you tomorrow or the next time?” the fiend said. Scratching his head, almost
feeling sorry for this nigga, but not sorry enough to take money out his
pockets to supply another nigga habits.
“Hell no, you know how it goes. You get what you pay for, old
school. You know, GABOS,” Pokey said. “We trying to eat just like you, we ain’t
hustling for nothing. Now what you got?”
“I got four dollars and thirty-five cents, that’s all I got, man.
Please help a brother out. My dick is in the dirt,” the baser cried.
“Give me the money,” Pokey said. As the fiend slid the money to
Pokey, Pokey snatched the money and said huh, giving the man a nickel. “Now got
the hell on somewhere.”
“Damn, Pokey, that’s fucked up. We just talked about this shit,”
Fatboy said, getting heated. “We all know GABOS, but at the same time, you
gotta start thinking, dog. If you treat a nigga right, put a lil food in his
belly, he’ll be ya best friend. You gotta learn sometimes it’s good to tilt ya
hand a little and let the crumbs hit the ground, ’cause you never know who you
may be blessing. All you had to do, homie, was give the basing-ass nigga the
dime, and tell him next time come correct with the loot. Always remember what
Sterling, a.k.a Mr. Big, told us, ‘It’s the customers that make us, not the
drugs’,” Fatboy was telling his dog Pokey.
“Ay, dog. You dead ass right,” Pokey said. “I’mma keep that in
mind,” as he began to think, “We came a longs ways, and our journey is not at
its end.”
He was thinking as Fatboy said, “Yeah, dirty, you gotta remember
how I said life is too short to wake up with regrets, so we gotta treat these
niggas and bitches like they our friends, then they’ll always be in our corner!
If not then when someone else comes along pushing shit just as good, they’ll
forget us and move on to the next man. All because we ain’t treating them
right,” Fatboy said, trying to explain to his friends.
“All right, dog. Damn, please don’t start preaching to me ’cause I
said I heard cha,” Pokey said. “Look, here comes these two dirty-ass niggas,
and I bet they ain’t got more than ten dollars.” Pokey said.
“Well, let’s see,” Fatboy said, just to see how his friend would
handle things. As the two fiends walked up, they started yelling, “What’s up,
y’all? What’s up, y’all?
Until Pokey said, “Man, hold that shit down. What you want
anyways?”
“Man, can we get a twenty? We got fourteen dollars to our name.”
Pokey gave Fatboy a look, like nigga what I told you. As Fatboy
just shrugged his shoulder, like do you.
“Hold up,” Pokey said to the crack heads, “let me see what I can
do for y’all, huh, man,” he said, giving them a twenty rock. “Look, y’all, next
time be on point with the money. I’mma bless y’all this time, but don’t look
for blessings from me all the time ’cause I ain’t God. All right, man?”
“Thank you,” the two fiends said. Bending the corner.
“Dog, that’s what’s up!” Fatboy said. “Now look, Pokey, you made
them niggas day. A happy nigga is a good nigga,” Fatboy said.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear all that. But if them niggas keep coming up
short they came be taking money but our pockets,” Pokey said, “and that shit
and gonna keep happening,” Pokey said.
“Dog, next time I bet them niggas have the bread right!” Fatboy
said, smiling for the first time.
“We’ll see, but if they don’t, the money coming outta your
pockets,” Pokey said in an angry tone.
Within the next three and a half hours, things were running
smoothly, everything was sold out, but a few sacks of weed! When Shine and Boo
Boo finally came back from the sleeping dead, they were surprised to see that
most of the products were gone. Looking around and saying, “Damn, y’all niggas
been booming hard this morning,” Boo Boo said, giving us some dap. Like he
really couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah, dog, we did our thing today. Gotta make some extra cash to
keep my dog tight, in case my nigga gotta do a lil time,” Pokey said, with a
sad expression. “Look, we ’bout to make a move,” Pokey said, “the money in the
stash spot, and y’all gotta get in touch with Sterling, a.k.a. Mr. Big, and
re-up or close down shop for today and have these fiends lined up at the door,
like the government giving out free cheese,” Pokey said, laughing.
“I got it, dog, I’mma hit the nigga up,” Shine said, giving Fatboy
some dap and a hug.
“Good luck, my nigga, appreciate it, ’cause I’mma need it,” Fatboy
said. “Let’s roll, dog, if you coming. It’s about that time, and I gotta go
change clothes and get cleaned. Gotta make a good impression for the judge,”
Fatboy said, walking out the door, laughing to himself, with Pokey right behind
him, counting money.
Five minutes later, they were walking up the stairs to Fatboy’s
mom’s crib. As he opened the door, he noticed his mother bent over the sofa, on
her knees praying.
“Ma, you all right?” Fatboy asked.
“Oh yeah, baby, I’m all right,” she said, wiping a falling tear
from her cheek as she got up.
“I was just praying, that’s all.” When she seen Pokey, she looked
at him with disgust in her eyes.
“Hey, Mrs. Walls,” Pokey said.
“Hi, boy,” she said, trying to be polite. “Fatboy, you know you
got court in about thirty minutes, so you better hurry up.”
“I’m coming, Ma. Just give me a minute,” as he ran to his room. He
grabbed his shoe box that held all his money and took it and placed it in the
top drawer. So his mother would know where to look if she ever needed money, or
if they locked him up and he needed money, she would know where to get it from.
As he started changing fits, he grabbed his favorite CD, All Eyes on Me by
Tupac and put it in his back pocket and ran out the door.
“All right, Momma, I’m ready to roll.” As they all walked out the
door and toward the car, Mrs. Walls stopped dead in her tracks.
“Hold up, where you going?” she asked Pokey.
“I’m rolling with y’all, Mrs. Walls,” Pokey said. “That’s all
right, ain’t it?” he said, feeling a lil hurt.
“Momma, why you tripping on my dog?” Fatboy asked.
“’Cuz he might be the reason your ass get locked up today, that’s
why!”
When Pokey heard that, he began to walk off but turned around and
told his friend, “Dog, I’m hoping for the best, and I’ll get up with you later.
If the worst happen, I’mma write you and shit and hold the fort down,” Pokey
said, walking off.
“Dang, Momma, that’s how you gonna do my friend. Don’t you think
if he didn’t feel bad enough, he would’ve never paid you all the money back
with extra that you bonded me out with? All he wanna do is ride with us, to
make sure I’mma be okay.”
As Mrs. Walls heard the sadness in her son’s voice, her heart
began to break, and she realized that we all make mistakes. “All right, baby,
call your friend and tell him come on.”
“Thank you, Momma. Hey Pokey, Pokey. Come on, dog.”
As Pokey turned ’round and walked back with a smile on his face,
Mrs. Walls said, “Boy, I apologize. I’m just frustrated right now.”
“I understand that, Mrs. Walls,” Pokey said. As they got into the
car, Fatboy pulled the CD out his pocket and placed it in the CD player and
pushed play, and the song began to play. Fatboy turned around and told his
friend, “This one for you.” As Tupac began to rap “I Ain’t Mad at Cha,” he was
playing this song for a reason, to let his dog know no matter what happens
today in court, I still ain’t mad at cha. Fatboy was thinking, “We was once two
niggas of the same kind / used to holla at a hoochie with the same line / You
were just a little smaller but you still rolled,” as they started bopping they
heads to the beat. Mrs. Walls looked at her son and began to smile. She knew in
her heart things would turn out all right as she listened to her son rap along.
“In my cell thinking hell I know one day I’ll be back.
As soon as I touch down. I told my girl I’ll be there, so prepare
to get fucked down. The homies wanna kick it, but I’m just laughing at cha, cause
you’re a down ass bitch and I ain’t mad at cha.
As the song found its ending, they pulled up in front of the
courthouse.
“Before y’all get out,” Mrs. Wall asked, “let’s say a prayer.” As
she began, the boys bowed their heads. When she was done, they shouted, “We’ll
amen to that!” And they hopped out the car, feeling better about the outcome.
As they entered the courthouse, they were told to walk through the scanner, to
check for any weapons, which no one had. Once past all the bullshit, they
proceeded to court room 3A.
About ten minutes later, the judge said, “Gore v. State.”
“Well, that’s me y’all,” Fatboy said as he walked up to the front.
Once there a white lady by the name of Mrs. Clark said she was my public
defender and said she would be representing me today. “All right, cool,” Fatboy
said.
“Listen, Mr. Gore, this is your first time in trouble, but you
already said it was your gun and not someone else’s, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Fatboy said.
“Well, being that this is your first offense, the judge is willing
to give you two years’ probation, if you plead guilty right now.”
“Shit. Oh my bad, I mean shoot. Where do I sign okay?”
“Hold on,” the PD said. “Your Honor, my client is willing to plead
guilty to the gun charge in exchange for the two years’ probation.”
“Son, is that correct?” the judge asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you know if you mess up, it’s a 99 percent chance you’ll be
locked up.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“And you’re sure you’re willing to plead guilty right now?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“Son, you do know two years’ probation is nothing compared to what
I could do give you. But I feel in my heart, you made a mistake that you won’t
make again. Am I right?”
“Yes, sir judge.”
“All right. You can go now. You probation officer will let you
know what’s what,” the judge said.
As Fatboy began to walk off, he looked at his mother who was
smiling and hoping this would open her son’s eyes.
“Baby, you know everything happens for a reason. If you get a
chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it would be easy,
they just promised it would be worth it,” his mother said holding her tears
back.
“Momma, I got you. And trust me, I’mma be all right. Two years on
probation ain’t nothing, it’s like taking candy from a baby,” he said, hopping
in the car and pushing play on the CD, turning it up to hear Tupac’s “Life Goes
On,” as his mother drove them back to the projects.
“It’s always another day but the same ole shit!” Pokey was
thinking.
“Damn, now I’m on papers. A nigga can’t do shit,” Fatboy said.
Once his mother was outta sight, “Chill, dog, everything gonna be good,” Pokey
said.
“Shit, as long as we making this money, all you really gotta do is
pay that shit off, and them crackers will take you off that shit. You know they
don’t want shit, but money from a nigga anyways.”
“All right, dog. Whatever,” Fatboy said, taking a sit on the
steps. As he watched his friend, he realized, “Maybe this ain’t the life I
wanna live, but knew it was too late ’cause he put his bid in. already, so
I’mma ride to the end,” he was thinking. “I just hope it’s worth it in the
end.”
“Look,
Pok, I’mma go in the crib and chill out a minute. I’ll meet you ’round Shine
and Boo Boo house in about two hours.”
“All right, dog, that’s what’s up,” Pokey said, getting ready to
leave.
“Hey, before you go, check this out.”
“What’s up?” Pokey asked.
“Dog, in a few months it’s your B-day, and that’s when ya
unc is supposed to put you on. Well, if so, let’s get all the money we can
and fall back from the game,” Fatboy said.
“All right, dog. We’ll do that,” Pokey said, looking at his friend
sideways, wondering where all this was coming from. As he turned around and
walked off, he had a bad feeling, “Damn, I hope this nigga ain’t getting soft
on me, ’cause if so, he know the rules to the game. Once you in, it’s only two
ways to get out, buy out or death,” Pokey was thinking. But just as fast he
shuck the thought, “Na’ll, that’s my dog,” he said, walking in the house. “He
living better than that thug life.”
