Friday, September 22, 2017

Free that nigger fat

�� 2 Chainz Type Beat 2017 - "Plotting On Me" (Instrumental) Trap Beat - ...

Lil Boosie Crazy Remix Ft Kevin Gates

Cardi B - Bodak Yellow [OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO]

Tee Grizzley - First Day Out (Official Music Video)

Teflon Mula - Plottin On Ya (Official Music Video) [Produced by 4 Feva]

Part 2 of Chapter 21 ’Bout Time ( Gabos )

“Let’s find a parking space,” Fatboy said.

“Nigga, what you think I’m looking for?” Flick said. After fifteen minutes of riding ’round, we finally found a parking space. As we exited the ride, we see three of the baddest females by the names of Peaches, Pumkin, and Coca. Everybody knew these chicks, call they were ’bout their issue, and making money wasn’t a problem. Finally entering the club, we headed straight to VIP to wait on Turtle and his cousins. After waiting ’bout ten to fifteen minutes, Flick looked up from talking to this red chick that was all on his dick and let us know. Lo-P and Rim just entered the building, but no sign of Turtle. ’Bout two minutes later, Turtle came strolling through the doors, they he went right there, he walking over to Lo-P and Rim now. As all three niggas began walking toward VIP like they were dons, Fatboy and his dogs couldn’t do nothing but laugh.

“Look at these niggas, they walking in this bitch like they own the shit, not even realizing this could be a trap and the end for them. Shh, here they come,” Pokey said.

“What’s up, y’all,” Turtle and his crew said, entering the VIP room.

“Nothing, dog, just chilling, waiting on y’all,” Pokey said, standing up, giving the niggaz some dap. Before they decided to take their seats, “Look, let’s get straight to business,” Pokey said. “I need y’all help again,” Pokey said.

“Is it money involved,” Lo-P asked.

“Always,” Fatboy replied. “If it ain’t ’bout money we wouldn’t need y’all, believe dat!”

“I feel that,” Lo-P said.

“So what’s up?” Turtle said.

“Look, we got a big lick that can put us on top of the game, but first we need some fire power.”

Turtle just laughed.

“Nigga, what's so funny?” Pokey asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Turtle said. “The shit you just asked ain’t no problem though,” Turtle shot back. “Just let me holla at this nigga I know right quick. He got everything an army will need.”

“Well, ain’t no need beating ’round the bush. Go handle ya business,” Pokey told Turtle.

“Chill, nigga. The nigga always come through here on Friday nights, so just be patient. Speaking of the devil, the nigga just walked in. See the nigga with the MIA Jersey on?” Turtle said.

“Who that tall black-ass nigga?” Flick said.

“Yeah him, that’s my dog Black,” Turtle said. “Let me go holla at him right quick,” Turtle said, leaving the VIP room. After about ten minutes of talking back and forth, we see the nigga Black looked up here, and Turtle smiled and gave us the thumbs up sign.

“I guess all is good,” Pokey said, watching Turtle and Black walk up the stairs to VIP. As Turtle walked in followed by Black, Black was the first to introduce himself.

“What’s up, y’all? My name Black, and I heard y’all looking for the good goods, and I got what y’all need.”

“Word,” everybody said

As Pokey got up and walked toward Black with his hand extended, “What’s up, you ready to talk business?” Pokey yelled over the loud music.

“Look, I really don’t know you that good, but my dog Turtle told me y’all good people, so I’mma take his word on that and go against my better judgment and tell ya to follow me to one of my cribs, and we’ll discuss business, as you point out what you like,” Black said.

“That’s what’s up,” Pokey said. “Let’s roll, Yo, Fatboy and Flick, let’s roll.”

“Look,” Black said, “We all know bullshit stanks and money talks, and so let’s make shit happen.” As they started walking down the stairs, in Black’s mind he knew he was dealing with so lames, or so he thought. So in his mind, all he could do was count the dollars he knew he would make off these niggas. “Another sweet come-up,” he said to himself, as he hopped in an all-black two-door BMW.

“Y’all just follow me,” Black said. As he watched the three young in hop in a four-door box Chevy sitting on dubs, he smiled to himself. How sweet money always came his way so easily. ’Bout twenty-five minutes later, they pulled up to this big-ass house that was surrounded by other nice-ass houses.

“Damn,” they all said, “this bitch here bigger than a bitch,” they said, getting out the car. As they watched Black punch in a code, the door popped open.

“Damn, nigga, you living good,” Pokey said.

As they entered the crib and looked around, they noticed how nice the bitch was in the inside, from the all-white fur rug, to the big-ass screen TV, to the sound system that goes throughout the whole house.

“Damn, you got this bitch laid out,” Flick said.

“Come on, I know y’all done seen better,” Black said, being cocky. “Follow me, so we can handle business,” Black said, leading them downstairs to a basement that was pitch-black, until Black hit a light switch somewhere that damn near blinded all us.

“Damn, nigga, what’s up with this bright-ass light,” Flick hollered.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I put that shit in here, so you niggas can get a good look at all the shit I’m working with,” Black said with pride.

“That’s what’s up? But next time warn a nigga ’bout that bright-ass light,” Fatboy said, watching Black pull out all types of trunks from under this long-ass black table.

“So I guess this way they call you Black also, ’cause everything in this bitch black,” Pokey said.

“Yeah, you can say that,” Black said, pulling out gats from the trunks and laying them down upon the black table. As Black pulled out an AK-47, Pokey walked up to him, grabbed the AK, and asked, “Man, what you want for this piece right here?”

“Oh that, give me four grand and I’ll throw in two clips,” Black stated. And Pokey looked at this nigga like he done lost his mind.

“Damn, nigga, you trying to tax a nigga, like you the IRS or something? Or you must trying to get off on a nigga, thinking we lame and dumb, huh?” Fatboy said, removing the Glock 9 he had tucked in his back jeans.

“Hold up, man,” Black started pleading. “Don’t kill me, y’all can have all this shit,” Black said, inching slowly backward, wishing he never let these niggaz in his shit. But now was too late to act like a bitch, he was thinking, when he heard Pokey and Flick scream, “Man, fuck this nigga, GABOS,” they said, as they watched with excitement as Fatboy pulled the trigger, emptying the clip in Black’s face and chest. The first bullet entered his brain and killed him before he knew what hit him. The rest of the bullets found their resting place inside his body, as he lay prone on the floor with blood coming from everywhere.

“Tighten up!” Fatboy heard Pokey scream, which snapped him outta dreamland. “Hurry up, let’s find something to put these gun in and burn up,” as they all looked ’round the basement for something to put the guns in. Over in the corner Flick found two large gym bags. As he rushed to retrieve the bags, he came back to the table and watched as his friends loaded gun after gun in the bag.

“Look, if you touch it, take it with you,” Fatboy said. “That way we leave no fingerprints.”

“Word,” they all said, as they began to make their exit, the thought of missing out on something good entered Pokey’s mind.

“Hold up, y’all. Before we bounce, this nigga sitting too pretty not to have nothing in here, so let see what’s up,” Pokey said. “Fatboy, hit the upstairs rooms, Flick, hit all the closets, and I’mma check everything else. Make it quick, five minutes we out, with or without.”

“Word,” they all said, running in different directions. As Fatboy hit the third room, he came across a briefcase, throwing the briefcase on the bed, and popping the latches, he opened it to find stack upon stack. Closing the briefcase up with a big smile upon his face, he proceeded to run back downstairs. When he sees he’s the lone ranger in the living room, he calls out, “Dog, y’all let’s ride, we straight, I got what we need.” As Pokey comes out the kitchen, he looks at the briefcase in Fatboy’s hand and just smiles. “Jackpot,” Pokey said.

And Fatboy said, “End of the rainbow.”

“Flick, let’s ride!” Pokey screamed.

“Hold up, I’m coming right now!” Flick screams, walking out the closet, holding what looks like four keys of dope.

“Nigga, what that is?” Fatboy asked.

“Nigga, what it look like, that good white them pigeons. Nigga, four of them thangs.”

“Word,” Pokey says. “Now let get all this shit up outta here.” As Pokey grabs one duffel bag and Flick grabs the other fill with the guns and start walking out the door, they turn around just in time to see Fatboy sat the briefcase down, and the four keys on top of it, grab a lighter that’s on the table on the living room table, walk over to the curtains, and set the bitches on fire. Placing the lighter in his pocket, he walks calmly back over to the briefcase and four keys, picks them up, and steps out the burning house, feeling like a rich man. Now that they came upon a good lick, they rush back to the car and pop the trunk.

“Nigga,” Pokey tells Flick, as they load the goods in the trunk and hop in the ride. The only thing they hope for now is to make it back to the projects without being stopped by the police on the ride back. Everyone is quiet, deep in thought. As they pull up in the projects, they all began to smile, and that’s when the talking began.

“Boy, we did that,” Pokey said.

“Fatboy, you crazy-ass fuck,” Flick said.

“Yeah, I know. Now tell me something I don’t know!” Fatboy said, laughing.

“All right, y’all, enough of the bullshit. Let’s .get this shit upstairs and see what we working with!” Pokey said, all smiles. “Damn, we straight. What’s that, Flick ask. Four keys and seventy thousand dollars. Pokey answer that’s twenty-five grand apiece, Fatboy added fast. Plus the money we’ll make off selling these four birds. But in all reality, this ain’t shit compared to the lick that’s at hand when we rob that nigga Mr. Big Pokey said thinking out load. We should be on the young, rich, and famous. Fatboy said look at his friends they all laughed, until they heard Mrs. Queen yelling.

“If y’all don’t stop all that goddamn yelling in my house while I’m trying to sleep, I know something.”

“Oh shit, my bad, Momma,” Pokey said.

“I know it’s your bad. Next time it’s your ass,” she said, and his two friends covered their mouths to keep from laughing at Pokey.

“Y’all let’s burn up. We can talk outside somewhere.”

“Word,” they said.

“Before Mrs. Queen beat your ass,” Fatboy said, running out the door, with Pokey and Flick on his heels. All three boys were feeling good with the come-up they just made. They just hoped in the back of their minds they would come out alive when they robbed Mr. Big, like they did on this lick. It’s only so many chances a nigga gonna get in life. And they all sat around trying to figure out the next best move.

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Part 1 of Chapter 21 ( Gabos )

’Bout Time

Three months after everything that happened, with the robbery to Pokey being placed in a coma, you would’ve thought that would have opened a few eyes, but it didn’t. All it did was make us more heartless, ’cause at the same time, we had a place to be and a world to take over. So the heavens was the limits and any way possible.

“Yo, Pokey, you still ain’t get in touch with ya Uncle Sico yet?” Fatboy asked.

“Na’ll, dirty. I been trying to get in touch with that nigga since I been out the hospital. You know I need that cheddar that nigga took from us. Real shit though, it’s like this nigga just disappeared off the face of the earth,” Pokey said.

“That’s the way it seems. Shit, if I had ghosted that nigga for his loot. I wouldn’t answer the phone or come ’round either,” Flick said.

“Yeah, but that’s a dead giveaway. I know Unc ain’t that damn stupid,” Pokey said.

“Nigga probably somewhere, getting high or dead one,” Flick put in.

“Y’all no, what else is funny though,” Pokey said.

“What’s that?” Fatboy asked.

“I haven’t heard or seen the nigga Mr. Big since the last time he left the hospital and told him he was dead in my eyes,” Pokey said.

“Shit, you can’t even be mad ’bout that!” Flick screamed. “That’s the same nigga who saved our life, then kept it real with you and told you he was your daddy . . . and you straight up dissed the nigga.”

“Shit, I wouldn’t holla at ya grimy ass either if I was that man,” Fatboy said, meaning every word.

“Man, fuck that nigga and Sico too!” Pokey screamed. “Y’all either with me or against me. The way I see it, is, if them niggas wanna play the game dirty, than we can play by the same rules. Nobody ever said in this games there is ties. So somebody gotta win, and somebody gotta lose. See, he slipped when he showed us where he lay his head. You know niggas get caught slipping when dealing with emotions. When the nigga momma died, he was so caught up in his feelings, he lead us right to his spot. So now we got the upper hand, so it’s his downfall, and our come-up,” Pokey said, throwing our come-up out there to see what kind of response he would get from his two homies. As he watched their expression go from one of doubt to one of greed, he knew these niggas was on the paper chase and would be down to rob Mr. Big, and if he forced their hands, add some hollo w points to his body, if the need arose.

“So, my niggas Fatboy and Flick, y’all ready to run these streets or what?”

“Dog, if the paper worth the chance, count me in. But at the same time, we gonna need a lil backup when dealing with a nigga like Mr. Big.”

“Why you say that?” Pokey asked, becoming angry.

“’Cause he hated breaking bread with outsiders, but he listened anyways. First, dog, we really don’t know the layout of the nigga crib like that, we only been there once.”

“Yeah,” Pokey said, “go on.”

“And that time, it wasn’t nobody there, but his fine-ass wife and his daughter Trirena. But who knows what type of shit this nigga got rigged up for shit like we planning.”

“All right, dog.” Pokey said. “I hear you, so let me here the plan. Listen, I’mma get in touch with Turtle and his two cousins, and see if they down to ride. And if so, then we gotta get in touch with somebody who holding and selling some fire, just in case we gotta bust our guns.”

“In case the nigga wanna fight for what’s no longer his?” Fatboy said. “’Cause to be honest with you, a nigga need all the butter he can get, especially when they ’bout to bring a seed in this world, and I can’t help if I’m broke,” Fatboy said flipping, his pockets inside out, showing he wasn’t just talking.

“Damn, nigga, what happen to all the money you was supposed to save up?” Flick questioned.

“Come on, dog, you don’t think I’m stupid. I got my momma a house being built, somewhere way out in the boondocks. In two mo’ months, my people will have they own shit, courtesy of us and the street life,” Fatboy said, smiling, remembering the smile he put on his mother’s face when he gave her the keys to her own crib. As bad as she wanted to ask how, she kept her mouth closed and said, “Thank you, baby,” knowing in two months, she’ll be out the projects. That alone was enough to keep her worries in check!

“It’s a good thing what you did for your old girl. I know she was happy,” Pokey said. “Yeah, and it’s a good thing we all getting our people up out the hood, ’cause after this shit go down, what we about to pull, it’s gonna be hot ’round here. So being in the country want be too bad,” Pokey said, shooting the breeze.

“Check it though, we on a time frame. We gotta try and have everything planned, right before our peoples move up outta here.”

“Damn, nigga, why we ’bout to wait so long?” Pokey asked his friend, ready to smoke a nigga for the paper.

“Chill, dog, this ain’t no game. We ain’t gonna rush this, ’cause for one, we ain’t talking ’bout hitting no small time-ass nigga. We talking ’bout a nigga that’s clocking real figures, plus I still got a lil money put up for hard times like these, so chill,” Fatboy said. “And just be patient.”

“So when we gonna holla at the niggaz Turtle and them?”

“ASAP. As a matter of fact, I’mma see if I can get in touch with the nigga now,” Fatboy said, flipping open his cell phone.

“Hold up, dog. First, how you know if we can even trust these dudes?” Pokey asked.

“The same way we trusted them to off Boo Boo, and Shine, that’s how,” Fatboy said back.

“All right, dog. It’s your call,” Pokey told Fatboy, staring him down. As Fatboy dialed the number, “Ain’t nobody answering,” Fatboy said. “Hold up, I’mma try again. Nope, this time the shit went straight to voice mail.”

“So that kills that,” Pokey said. “Since the nigga ain’t picking up, check it though, let’s roll. Let’s ride around and see what we can get into,” Pokey said.

“Let’s ride,” Flick said, opening his car door.

“Damn, I almost forgot,” Pokey screamed. “Y’all hold up, let me go handle something right quick,” he said, running up the stairs and inside the crib. As he ran to his room, he heard his momma scream out.

“Boy, you knew ya ass ain’t supposed to be doing shit. Ain’t that what that doctor told ya hardheaded ass!”

Yelling back, Pokey said, “Momma, I’m straight, that cracker don’t know what he talking about!” he screamed while removing the shoebox from under his bed. This where he kept extra cash for times like these. As he pulled all the money out the shoebox, he stuffed the dead faces in his pockets and ran the same way he came. Before he reached the door, he heard his mother voice again saying, “Baby, be careful.”

As he closed the door behind him and hit the steps two at a time, till he met up with pavement. Now walking over to the waiting car, he saw his two friends in a deep convo. “What’s up? Y’all good or what?” Pokey asked.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, we good, dog,” Fatboy said, bringing the convo to a close.

“Y’all ready to roll?” Pokey asked, jumping in the backseat.

“Yeah, let’s burn up,” Flick said, backing out. As they listened to Trick Daddy, “you don’t know na nigga,” blaring from the speakers, each person was in their own world, bopping to the beat, when Pokey screamed, “Dog, turn that shit down right quick. That shit giving me a headache,” Pokey said, grabbing his head, feeling the pain from his latest injury.

“You okay, dirty?” Fatboy asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just a slight headache from all this damn bumping Flick got in this motherfucker, that’s all, but it’s gravvy now,” Pokey said, digging in his pocket and removing the dead mans he had saved up from out his pockets. As he began to count the money, he said to himself, “Damn, I gotta break bread with my niggas, ’cause we in this shit together.”

“Well, y’all!” Pokey screamed. And Fatboy turned around in his seat, “What’s up, dog?”

“What they do. Look,” Pokey said, “I got 3,521 dollars in my name, so I’mma shoot y’all a grand a piece, and that should hold y’all fools a minute, at least until we catch up with my Uncle Sico and get our loot back.”

“Man, you still stuck on that bullshit?” Flick said. “That nigga Sico probably in Canada some motherfucking where, balling outta control!” Pokey heard Flick scream, and they all laughed.

“Fuck that nigga. Here you go, Fatboy, and huh, nigga,” Pokey said, slapping Flick upside the head. “That’s for being funny.”

“Oh, word,” both his friends said.

“This what’s up! Look, Flick. Dog, stop at the store right quick, so I can grab me a Tylenol or something, ’cause a nigga head pounding.”

“All right, dirty, I got cha,” Flick said, pulling up at the 7-Eleven, watching as Pokey exit the backseat. “Hurry up, nigga,” Fatboy said to Pokey. “Fatboy, now that the nigga gone, remember what I was telling you before we left projects.”

“Yeah, Flick, I remember. After this lick we do with Pokey, that’s it, word,” Flick said, “’cause I’m trying to go to college and get paid the right way,” Flick said.

“Man, we gonna see how this shit turn out. I hope it’s enough cheddar to pull us away for good,” Fatboy said.

Back inside the store Pokey felt like his head was about to bust, but realized it was a good thing he caught a headache, ’cause now he was inside the store with Turtle and some female.

“Yo, Turtle, what’s up! What’s good, man? I’ve been trying to get at cha today, but your cell kept going to voice mail,” Pokey said.

“Yeah, dog, I told my shortie today it would be me and her, that’s why I ain’t answer. You know I ain’t got nothing but my word, feel me?” Turtle said.

“Yeah, I feel you, dog. But what I need to holla at you about is some important shit. So listen, not to fuck up you and your lady’s time, but tonight meet me at the underground club around eight tonight.”

“All right, dog, I’ll be there,” Turtle said.

“One more thing,” Pokey said, “bring ya cousins Rim and Lo-P.”

“All right,” Turtle said, smiling, knowing what time it was now. As Turtle and he chick left the store, Pokey walked up to the cash register and paid the chick for the Tylenol he just purchased and walked out the store, with a smile on his face. Making his way back to the car, he had a funny feeling about his two friends but couldn’t put two and two together, so he left it at that and hopped in the backseat.

“Listen, I just holla at Turtle in the store. I told him to meet us at the underground club tonight at eight, so we can discuss business. He said he’ll be there.”

“Word,” Fatboy said.

“That’s what’s up,” Flick said, looking in the mirror at Pokey.

“So what we gonna do till then? We got plenty of time left to kill,” Pokey said, looking at his watch, while saying under his breath, “By that time, shit should be on and poppin,” just loud enough for his friends can hear. While driving around for ’bout two to three hours, they decided to make their way back to the PJ’s to talk about how they were going to set things up. Entering the dark cloudy projects about twenty minutes later, they were reminded why this lick meant so much. As they exited the ride, they started making their way to Pokey’s crib.

Fatboy and Flick screamed, “Man, I hope Mrs. Queen cooked, ’cause a nigga hungry as fuck!”

“But let’s handle business first,” Pokey said, looking at his two friends and asking them, “Man, y’all sure y’all ready to take this shit to the next level and run these streets?”

Fatboy said, “Dog, I’m ready.”

And Flick said, “Count me in.”

As Pokey looked at his two friends for any signs of weakness, after seeing none, he said, “All right, let’s go ahead and get ready to wreck havoc, we only got an hour left, to be at the club. So check it, y’all go grab something to eat and then get dress, so we can burn up.”

“All right,” they both said, walking out the door, heading to their crib. As Pokey hopped in the shower, all he could think about was the come-up they would make, if everything went as planned. Ten minutes later he was getting out the shower, drying off, and throwing on a fresh fit with a fresh pair of Jordan’s. He picked up the phone and called Fatboy up. After the third ring, he heard Fatboy’s voice.

“Yeah, what’s up, dog?”

“Y’all niggaz ready to burn up or what?” Pokey asked.

“Yeah, dog, we ready. Flick on his way over now.”

“All right, I’m leaving now,” Pokey said.

“One,” Fatboy replied. As he looked over himself in the mirror, liking the way his fresh white-and-blue Polo fit looked on him, with the fresh white-and-blue Air Force 1s, “Damn, I’m fresh,” he said to himself. As he walked out the door to meet his friends, “Come on, nigga,” he heard Pokey yell as soon as he stepped out the door, walking over to Flick’s ride. He liked the fits his dogs were rocking, Flick was rocking a brand-new Jordan outfit, with the same color Jordan shoes, with a Philly cap and two gold chains around his neck. My dog Pokey had on some brand-new Nautica fit with a fresh pair of Jordan’s on, a simple chain, with a fat-ass watch. Anyway we were all clean and ready to act an ass if the need came, pulling off from the curb, listening to that (cash money) lights out bobbing our heads to the beats. ’Bout fifteen minutes later, we pulling up in front of the club.

“Damn, this bitch pack. It’s a line damn near a mile long. Man, this shit gonna be off the chain tonight, they got some fine-ass bitches up in here tonight,” Pokey said, looking around. Then Flick turned the music down.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

ABC 20/20 Full Episodes 2017 Show Me the Money

Inmate letter ( answering your question)

t2tylergore@hotmail.com

No, Your letter will not be read by anyone here from this page.
Just print out and mail out
Put all information we need to the top
We will send the letter out every night after 7:pm each day

No we will not put your information on this page or sell it to anyone
We are doing this for the people who are behind bars
who don't get mail, because their family is to busy to pick up a pen,
but they do use their phone & etc. or don't have time to go the post office.
and other inmates who are trying to make something of their self why they are in there
so when they come home they will have something to look forward too.

No, you don't have to donate any money if you don't want too. this is helping you out too

If you have any more question please send

Inmate letters

The letters are coming from Fla.
But because of the hurricane the mail is slow
So please keep them in mind and they have you in mind
If you want to send a love one a letter
you can send it to :

t2tylergore@hotmail.com

Make sure you have their dc number and full name
If you have the address is good and faster
However, if you don't as long as you have the dc# they will get their letter from you.
Make sure you have your address so they can right you back and I'll make they have 1 stamp & envelope.

Everything is being paid for with the donation & Tyler Gore sister Tiffany from this page.
As we get more donation we will help some inmates with things
Inmates who would to get a book out and publish
Gabos is about chaos but we would like show the part
that people don't see much of
and that's the chaos of love

Much Love
Gabos1

Former UM football player Jason Geathers arrested on drug charges, records show

BY CARLI TEPROFF

cteproff@miamiherald.com

SEPTEMBER 17, 2017 10:51 PM

Former University of Miami Hurricanes football player Jason Geathers was in a Palm Beach County jail Sunday night after being arrested earlier in the day on charges that included heroin trafficking and resisting arrest, records show.

Geathers, whose 37th birthday is Monday, was stopped before 2 a.m. Sunday in the 900 block of Northwest First Street for not having the proper lights on his bicycle, according to the Palm Beach Post, which first reported Geathers’ arrest.

Court records show that Geathers, who graduated from Spanish River High School in Boca Raton and began at UM in 2000 after a year-long delay because he didn’t meet academic requirements, was charged with trafficking heroin after officers found more than four grams of heroin; possession of cocaine and marijuana and resisting arrest without violence.

According to the Post, Geathers, who appeared in court Sunday morning, was being held on a $40,000 bond.

Broward teacher sent sexually explicit messages to a student’s cellphone, cops say

A drama coach at a Pembroke Pines private school
was arrested Monday after police say he sent sexually
explicit messages and pornography to a student.

20/20 ABC Body of Lies

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For My Man Season 1 Episode 5

For My Man

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THE HOOD

Man,
I close my eyez - just to turn around to heard the yelling in the background
Can't even hear the fuck clock on the wall and that shit loud as fuck
Rich kids riding in like this shit is cool and like they from the hood.
Then play with their money and running that big ass mouth
You may see it as I shouldn't have done that
I see it as he shouldn't have come with that
You come to hood and don't know how to act
Rich boy rich girl I'll be your belt
you can do that shit at home
but here in this hood you need know your place and how to act
trying to play me
you just got your mic
because you can now run and tell all your little rich kids
when you bring your as to my hood
everything is cool till you run your mouth
who else need a mic

THE HIT full HOOD MOVIE

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Monday, September 18, 2017

Chapter 20 ( Gabos )

Rude Awakening

“Damn, where am I?” Pokey said, looking at this bright light that was before his eyes. Trying to pick his hand up to block the light but realized he was too weak, when he started hearing voices.

“Pokey, Pokey, nigga, say something. Damn, you got them big-ass eyes open, but you ain’t saying shit.” He heard the voice again, this time trying his hardest to remember where he was and say something. But all that came to mind were the years he spent in prison, fighting for his life, ’cause this nigga and that nigga was hating on him. One memory in particular stayed on his mind. The night before he was to go home, a couple niggas tried to stop that from happening. He could see it clearly now, three niggas running off in his cell. While he was lying down reading a book called the Jux, his roommate Old School was asleep, or so he thought, when outta nowhere, one kid pulls something that looks like a knife but was a prison shank, just as deadly as a knife.

“Yeah, nigga, I know you thought we was gonna forget how you did our boy. I told you, I promise I’mma get you before you make it home,” the kid said, making his way closer to the bunk, when outta nowhere, Old School jumped up with a shank as long as a sword.

“Look, lil niggas, if y’all wanna make it home alive, y’all better get the fuck up outta here, ’cause whether y’all like it or not, this kid right here will see the streets tomorrow.” As the kid with the shank started to say something, Old School said, “Man, y’all got ’bout ten second before I start using this bitch.”

As Pokey watched the three dudes leave, he said, “Thanks, Old School. I guess them niggaz didn’t wanna see a nigga make it home.”

“Look, Pokey, I know you got the heart of a lion, but tomorrow you going back to the free world. Get out there and do something with your life, ’cause a lotta people ain’t lucky to leave and make it outta prison in one piece. So be thankful and always remember what I told you, life is precious, don’t fuck it up being stupid.”

“I got you, Old School.” Pokey remembers saying watching the light go dim, when he heard, “Pokey, dog, real shit, we need you out here. If you can hear me, dog, it’s been three weeks, and you still ain’t saying shit,” Fatboy said, watching his dog move his hand then his head. As Mrs. Queen and Mr. Big walked in, Pokey blinked his eyes, “I know you heard me, nigga,” Fatboy said, looking at his dog, who looked confused as hell.

“Man, what happen? Where am I?” As he tried to sit up, he couldn’t, so he looked over at his mother who had her mouth covered with her hands and tears falling from her eyes. “Momma, what’s up? Where am I, and what happen?” he asked his mother, with a weak voice.

As his mother came to his bedside, “Baby, I’mma let ya lil friends tell you what happen, ’cause they no better than me. All I can tell you is that you’re in the hospital, you been in a coma for three weeks now. And I’m just grateful you came out of it,” she said, letting the tears fall.

“In a coma?” Pokey asked, trying to sit up.

“Yeah, dog, in a coma,” Flick cut in.

“Nigga, how you feeling?” Flick asked Pokey.

“Other than weak, I just got this big-ass headache,” Pokey said, trying to smile for his friend. “So what happen, ’cause I can’t remember how or why I got here,” Pokey said,

“Look, dog,” Fatboy said, “let me see if I can refresh ya memory. Three weeks ago, you remember we was chilling at the house when you was about to call yo Uncle Sico for some help when it was a knock on the door, but before we could do anything, three dudes kicked the door in, catching us by surprise. You wouldn’t get off the phone, you acted like the niggaz wasn’t even there, so one kept hitting you over the head with the gun. Good thing you stayed on the phone though, ’cause ya Uncle Sico and Mr. Big came rushing in just in time. I guess really with you being hardheaded and staying on the phone, you saved all our byes. You remember any of this?” Fatboy asked.

“Yeah, dog, it’s coming back to me, slowly but slowly now. So what happen to the—” As he was about to ask what happened to the three dudes, the doctor walked in.

“Well, I see you finally decided to wake up,” Dr. Van said. “I’m just gonna check your vitals right quick and make sure everything is normal. And if so, within two to three days, you should be able to walk outta here with a little help.”

“Hold up, doc,” Pokey said, “what you mean with a little help?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing bad. It’s just that you have been in this bed for three weeks, plus you lost a lot of blood, so you will be a little weak, until you start using your legs again, that’s all,” Dr. Van said.

“Oh, cool, I thought I was paralyzed or something,” Pokey said, feeling the relief come over his body.

“Well, everything seems to be going good,” Dr. Van said. “So I’mma leave y’all alone, y’all have a nice time,” the doctor said, walking out the door.

“Baby, listen, I hope you learn from this, and whatever it is y’all was doing, I hope y’all will leave it alone,” his mother said. “But right now I gotta go back to work. As soon as I get off, I’ll be back,” she said, bending over and kissing him on his cheek.

“All right, Mom,” Pokey said, feeling better already.

“Look, Pokey, now that Mrs. Queen is gone, I want you to know the three niggaz that did this to you are dead and stinking’. Ya old. I mean Mr. Big, didn’t even play with them,” Fatboy said.

“So what happen to all our money?”

“Dog, to be real with you, we wasn’t even worried about no money. All we was worried about was you. When ya Uncle Sico untied us, he told us to get up outta there, that he would handle everything. So we left the place and came straight to the hospital. But as soon as we leave, I’ll go by there and scoop the money up.”

“All right,” Pokey said, not liking the fact Sico was left alone with their money, hoping everything was how it is supposed to be. If not, somebody would pay.

“Anyways, dog, we just glad you decided to bounce back. Money we can make again, but a life once it’s gone, ain’t no coming back,” Flick said.

“Anyways, dog, we gonna go check on that right now,” Fatboy said. “’Cause I’m pretty sure Mr. Big wanna holla at you for a minute,” Fatboy said, looking Mr. Big square in the eyes. “Before we go, we did see ya Uncle Sico ’bout two weeks ago. He said holla at him when you can.”

As Fatboy and Flick left the hospital, they were thinking the same shit, “We ain’t see this nigga Sico since the last time he rode up on us in the projects when them niggas tried to take us out the world. The nigga ain’t been to see his own nephew, not one time.”

“Man, something ain’t right with that nigga Sico,” Fatboy said aloud.

“Yeah, I feel that. I was thinking the same shit,” Flick said, having another bad feeling about something. “Dog, while I drive, keep ya eyes open for us. Don’t want to get caught slipping again,” Flick said, heading back toward the project.

Back at the hospital, Pokey was looking at Mr. Big all crazy and shit, ’cause Mr. Big was just looking at him but not saying shit.

“Mr. Big, man, what’s up with you? Why you acting all funny and shit?” Pokey asked.

“Look, Pokey, it’s something important I got to tell you,” Mr. Big said, “but I don’t know how.”

“Is it something bad? Something wrong with me, I’m missing a leg or something?” Pokey said, feeling for his leg.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just, I just thought you should know the life you living, you don’t have to no more. I’mma make sure you straight,” Mr. Big said.

“And why would you wanna do all that?” Pokey said.

“’Cause I’m your,” Mr. Big couldn’t say the words.

“You’re my what?” Pokey said, trying to sit up. “You’re my what? Man, what the hell is going on with you? First, you looking at a nigga all crazy, then you start to tell me something then just stop. It’s that bad you can’t even tell a nigga what’s on your chest, but you always spitting that bullshit ’bout my word is everything. Well, tell a nigga what’s on your chest. What, you don’t wanna fuck with us no more? No big deal, nigga, we can handle our own,” Pokey took off. Trying to figure out what it was this nigga had to say, until Mr. Big cut him off.

“I’m your father. There, I said it. I’m your father.”

“You my what? Nigga, you tripping! My father died when I was a baby, that’s what my momma told me. Now you saying you a nigga father. Man, I ain’t trying to hear that,” Pokey said.

“Look, you need to calm your ass down with all that yelling,” Mr. Big said, “and just shut up and listen. Look, back in the days me and your momma used to mess around. Actually I was in love with her and vice versa, but it was one thing I loved the most.”

“And what was that?” Pokey asked.

“The call of the streets,” Mr. Big said. “She gave me a choice, said I could either choose her or lose her. I guess you know what happen.”

“Yeah,” Pokey said, “you lost her, ’cause you wanted to run the streets with ya thug and thought she would be waiting for you.”

“Yeah, Tupac, you can say that,” Mr. Big said. “But I’m thinking the reason she told you your daddy was dead was because I was dead to her, and she didn’t want you following in my footsteps, which is understandable if you ask me,” Mr. Big said.

“So you really a nigga father,” Pokey asked.

“Yeah, I am. That’s why you so much like me, ’cause my blood runs through your veins.”

“Is that right,” Pokey said. “Well, look, just like you dead to my momma, you dead to me. You aint’ been there in the beginning, ain’t no need in trying to be here now. I mean you still cool, Mr. Big, but you could never be my father. It’s too late for that, I’m a grown man. And everything I learned, I learned from the streets.”

“So you willing to die in the streets?” Mr. Big asked.

“If you didn’t stop them nigga from killing me, I’ll showed you I’mma die for mines,” Pokey said, dead-ass serious.

“So you still gonna try to run the streets after almost dying?” Mr. Big asked.

“I’mma run the streets till I get what I want, or the streets stop me by killing me.”

“And ya friends, you gonna take them with you?”

“Mr. Big, maybe you don’t get it. We, that means, me, my dog Fatboy, and Flick, bleed the same blood, we in it to win it.”

“And what if ya friends tell you they through with this life then what?”

“You nosy ass fuck,” Pokey said. “But they know the rules, death before dishonor. And if they choose to back out, then I guess they know GABOS.”

“Is that so? So you’ll take your own friends’ life?” Mr. Big asked.

“Look, Mr. Big, if you try to stop what I’m doing, or them, I’ll try to take your life. Just as well as theirs, if they get in the way. I guess you can call me coldhearted, but maybe if I had a father around, shit wouldn’t be like it is now. So blame nobody but ya self,” Pokey said.

“Yeah, you dead right,” Mr. Big said. “I’mma holla at you later.”

“Cool,” Pokey said with a crazy looking grin on his face. “Fuck you, nigga, and fuck my friends if they rolling with you,” Pokey was thinking, as the meds kicked in and he dozed off.

Fatboy and Flick got out the car and walked up to the project building. As they got closer to the door, they realized the door was ajar just a lil.

“Man, be careful,” Flick said, pulling out his pistol.

“All right, dog,” Fatboy said, pushing the door open to nothing but an empty crib. Everything was gone, wasn’t nothing left in this bitch, not even a blood spot.

“Man, go see if the nigga Sico put the money in the stash spot,” Fatboy told Flick. As Flick moved the rug, he noticed there was no lock for the stash spot, so he just pulled the lid up and looked inside.

“Na’ll, dog, ain’t shit in here. This bitch clean as a motherfucker.”

“Yeah, dog, I checked the rooms, and those shits clean too,” Fatboy said.

“So what the fuck happen to all the shit? Our money is gone, the lil dope we had is gone.”

“Only one way to find out, Sico,” they said at the same time.

“But how we gonna get in touch with the nigga?” Flick asked.

“Man, your guess is as good as mines, but the way things looking we gonna just have to get the number from Pokey and let him know what’s up.”

“Dog, something just ain’t feeling right ’bout this shit. First we get robbed, then a nigga try to take us out. Now this shit,” Fatboy said, looking ’round the empty house. “Something just ain’t right. I feel like we being set up, but by who and why?” Fatboy said.

“Dog, it is what it is. We just gotta stay on our p’s and q’s till we get to the bottom of this. That’s what’s up,” Flick said. “Let’s head back to the hospital and check on Pokey right quick,” Flick said, hopping behind the wheel, as he watched his dog climb in beside him.

Now on the other side of town, Sico was doing his thing with the money he robbed his nephew and friends, for he was balling outta control. He had his own money, but he called this free money. And with free money, a nigga could splurge, and that’s what he was doing. Smoking as much crack as he could, but at this particular time, he was chilling with another baser by the name of Kela in her run-down apartment. As he watched Kela take a hit off the pipe, she began to take off all her clothes. And even though she was a baser, she still had a banging body, standing at 6’1”, brown skin, nice round titties, and a fat ass to go with the fattest pussy you ever seen. She began to stick finger after finger in her soaking wet pussy. As she began to moan, Sico instructed her to come to him, which she did. As she began to unbuckle his pants, he stuck two fingers in her pussy and said, “Damn, this pussy wet.” As she turned around and sat on his lap, watching her ride him up and down, he forgot all about the fact people told him she had AIDS. As she began to go faster and faster, Sico grabbed her hips and began pulling her down as hard as he could on top of him to hear the sounds of swssh swssh.

“Damn, this pussy wet,” he said. As she looked back at him and smiled, screaming, “Get this pussy!” As he watched her body began to shake, she cried out, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, faster, faster!” As Sico felt himself begin to explode, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, not realizing what he did, until it was too late. As he pushed Kela off of him, he zipped up his pants, and just walked out the door. As he started walking down the stairs, Kela, buck-ass naked, ran behind him, “Oh, that’s how it is, you just gonna fuck a bitch than leave? Nigga, you ain’t shit, basing-ass nigga!”

“Look, bitch,” Sico said, stopping in his tracks. “I ain’t ya NIGGA. But to shut you up, here you go,” he said, giving the girl fifty dollars and a fifty piece of rock, which she gladly took.

“Thank you. When I’mma see you again?” she asked.

“I’ll be around,” he said, walking off. When he made it to his car, he had a strange feeling come over him, like something bad was about to happen, but shook the feeling, jumped in his ride, pulled out his pipe, placed the crack on it, and took another hit. As he was pulling, his cell phone began to ring. On the second ring he answered, “Yeah, who this?”

“Nigga, this your brother Sterling.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Look, I just left the hospital with Pokey. I told him I was his father, and the nigga said in his eyes I was dead. So when he come home don’t help him do shit, since he think he can do it on his own. I’mma show him without me, he ain’t shit,” Mr. Big said, hanging the phone up. Knowing now where the feeling came from, fuck it, he said, taking another hit.

“Shit, like nephew say, GABOS, so it is what it is. He should have learned never bite the hands that feed you.” As he was about to take another hit, he heard, tap, tap, on his window, which scared the shit outta him. Rolling the window down, looking in the face of Kela, the bitch he just got done fucking.

“Man, what’s up? Why the fuck you beating on a nigga window, like you the police or something.”

“Nigga, I was just bringing your ass this dingy-ass bag you left in my house,” Kela said, handing Sico the book bag that belonged to his nephew. As she passed him the bag, she stuck her head in the window, sniffing the air. “Damn, nigga, that’s how it is, you smoking solo now.”

“Bitch, if you don’t get ya crabbing ass on somewhere. I just broke bread with you, now you want the whole hog,” Sico said, rolling the window back up, resuming what he was doing before he was interrupted, taking the last hit, pulling off from the curve.

Back at the hospital, Pokey was just telling his homeboys how he told Mr. Big he was dead in his eyes, and he never had a father, so he don’t need one now, so he could get the hell on.

“Damn, dog, we could have just used the nigga,” Flick said, “’Cause now we ain’t got shit but the clothes on our back and the rides we purchase. Other than that and the lil money we got put up, we back to ground zero,” Flick said.

“Nigga, what you mean, we strapped? Or you forgot about all the money we left at the crib?” Pokey said.

“That’s just it, dog,” Fatboy said, “when we went to check on shit, everything was gone, money an’ all. The place was spotless.”

“So y’all telling me the money we risked our life for is gone?” Pokey said, sitting up in the bed.

“Yeah, dog, unless ya Uncle Sico got it. Remember I told you he said holla at him when you jumped.”

“I’mma do just that. And if the nigga ain’t got our money, somebody besides me will be lying in this hospital bed, that’s on everything,” Pokey said.

“I’m feeling that, dog. Also on our way home earlier, some niggaz creep up on us and started busting. Lucky for us all the bullets missed,” Flick said.

“Yeah, but it fucked my window up,” Fatboy said.

“So some niggaz tried to get at y’all?” Pokey asked really to himself. “Something ain’t adding up. First we get robbed, all our money is gone, now y’all telling me some niggas tried to take y’all out.”

“Yeah, that its,” Flick said. “So the thing is, we gotta stay under the radar, or stay alert at all times.” As Pokey was ’bout to say something to his friends, his mom walked into his room unsuspecting.

“I’mma holla at y’all later. I gotta holla at Mom’s right quick. When y’all leave, make sure y’all stay outta trouble. I should be up out this bitch tomorrow or the day after,” Pokey said, thinking about the dirt he would do to whoever crossed him. “Payback is a bitch,” was his last thought, as he watched his friends walked out the door.

“How you feeling, baby?”

“Oh, I’m feeling fine, nice of you to ask,” Pokey said. “Mom, look, I’mma get straight to the point. Why you lied to me all these years, telling me my daddy was dead? Now all of a sudden, this nigga pops up talking ’bout he’s a nigga daddy. That’s messed up. So let me ask you an honest question, when does a heart stop bleeding? ’Cause nothing to the point has been able to stop the constant stream, the hole you made in my heart is too big. You plunged your knife into it that day you lied to me about not having a father. ’Cause all I went through could have be avoided probably when I woke up wondering what had happen, what I done. This nobody nigga I met at the park is in here, telling me he’s my father. Why couldn’t you tell me, why not you? I thought me and you had a bond that couldn’t be broken, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Baby, we do have a bond,” Mrs. Queen said, letting her tears soak the floor. “I lied to you ’cause I didn’t want my only son following in the wrong person footsteps. But I guess it was something I couldn’t change nor stop, ’cause you falling right into the same life he trapped in. So yes, I lied, I had to lie to keep him out our life. I loved that man with everything I had, and he choose the street life over me, over us,” she cried. “I’m sorry, yes, I’m sorry that he found away into your life. I’m sorry you had to learn about this, this way, but some things I can’t change.”

“I know,” Pokey said.

“Baby, I’m just glad you’re okay, that’s all. And I hope that all you went through will open your eyes and help you enjoy life more, ’cause we only get one chance at it,” she said.

As Pokey began to talk again, “Mom, what if I would’ve died, I would’ve went to my grave believing my father was dead. Now how can a son forgive his own mother for her disloyalty? I didn’t ask him to be my father, you did, ’cause that’s who you loved at one time.”

“Look, Pokey, all I can say is I’m sorry, and if I’m wrong for wanting the best for you, then so be it. But you gotta learn in life, without adversity you have no character, without character you have no hope. Always keep in mind, never lose hope, ’cause I never lost hope in you. I love you,” his mom said. As she turned around and headed for the door, reaching out her hand to turn the knob, Pokey called out.

“Hey Mom, all is good. I forgive you, and I love you too. It’s him I refuse to forgive.” As Pokey said those words, Mrs. Queen turned around and walked back to his bedside and kissed him on his forehead.

“Thank you, baby. But now that your father is in your life, don’t you want him to stay?”

“No, I’m good. I never had a father growing up, I can do without now,” Pokey said, watching Mrs. Queen lower her head.

“Baby, look, I’mma head home and cook. Hopefully you’ll be outta here tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom, I’ll see you later.” As his thoughts kept drifting to how he was gonna get the man they called his father. “One or the other would be king, and I never knew two kings who ruled the same palace,” he was thinking. “So one of us gotta die,” he mumbled as he watched his mother close the door. To leave him alone with his own thoughts, which was a deadly combination.