Chapter Two

If I was in your shoes I would be wondering: WHO THE FUCK IS WRITING THIS BOOK? I won't tell you any real names and some other key details will be changed to protect the guilty. FUCK THE INNOCENT! If you work for the law and any specific scene gets your panties in a bunch – it’s all just made up… Wink Wink.

You know where I'm from; it's a great neighborhood at first glance but, to us who grew up in The Bay we see it as the ghetto. People misunderstand us - We don't try to act like we are hoodlums, we act like we are from the ghetto - you just got your shit confused. Baggy pants, slang and slinging. A victim of my surroundings, where it's all about survival of the fittest. You got to hustle to stay down and not turn into a mark and wind up extinct.

So it was a real quick evolution from being an innocent Brooklyn kid blowing shit up with fire-crackers, hustling a paper route, trying to write graffiti and trying to keep up with the older kids to become the Hustler that I am today. It was a hot June day and my boy Doug and I were about 13 or14 years old walking down east 22nd street towards Avenue X and this older guy, real spiffy looking with slicked back black hair, walks in between us and whispers

"Fireworks…. Smoke Smoke".

"Whatcha got" I replied out of curiosity

Dude pulled out a big bag of some green shit and put it in my hand. Doug’s eyes lit up.

"What the hell is that? I was looking for some M80's or some bottle rockets"

"Oh My bad. Sure, come take a walk I'll show you what I got."

"I don't know" D Said. "You think it's safe?"

"It can't hurt. Look, he lives right across the street from me."

I had smoked a few times before but Doug had been smoking and tripping since he was 11. He kicked his alcohol habit by 13. I'm talking a room full of beer cans and empty whiskey bottles. But Doug was down since the get down. We followed this guy who said his name was Steve to a basement apartment directly across the street from my house. He pulled at one of the books and the bookcase flipped around like he was Batman or some shit. It revealed a room full of illegal shit with everything from Drugs, guns, to fireworks and right back to drugs. But not just some drugs I mean a whole lot of white powder and garbage bags full of weed. Shit if it was illegal it was in this room. He probably got human organs in the back somewhere. Steve throws an M80 at me and then one to Doug and said:

"Take these as a gift from me and here is my price list for the fireworks. Let me know if you are interested in anything else boys."

Steve holds his arms out stretched as if he was Moses parting the red sea or at least some kind of Drug Sea. We bought twenty bucks worth of assorted fireworks and went to go bring them back to my house. You got to know that curiosity killed the cat...

...and satisfaction brought him back

So…..Fifteen minutes later we were back at Steve's basement trying to cop some weed. He put up a fight for oh about thirty seconds trying to play it off that he wouldn't sell drugs to kids. Here's how it went down. I rang the bell.

"Who's that?" A voice came over the intercom.

"It's Karl and Doug we wanted to grab something else."

"Who?"

"Karl and Doug - I live across the street. We were just here a couple of minutes ago."

"What up?"

"Can we come in?"

"Just you - have your sidekick wait elsewhere."

I explained to Doug that he needed to be ghost while I got the shit. He went to go sit on my stoop then I walked through the buzzing door. Steve was standing in the middle of the room with the bookshelf closed and there were some other kids with him.

"This is a few of my associates - It's Karl right?"

"Yeah that's my name. Karl with a K"

"This is Tony and Rocco."

“You Write?”

“Yeah SintOne DTA”

"What the deal son? I’m Zae" Said Tony.

"Chilling. I just wanted to grab some trees"

"We can't sell you this shit what are you 12?" Rizzi said with a smile.

“Here hit this Sint" Zae went to pass me a big cigar.

"I don't smoke cigars - thanks"

They all started laughing and explained to me what a Philly Blunt is and then passed me the Blunt again. I took a long hard pull off it and exhaled. Then I started coughing - It felt like I was coughing for 10 minutes. When I finally stopped Steve said:

"He's cool. Give him a bundle."

Rocco tossed a zip lock bag filled with smaller baggies with weed in them. This wasn't just any old weed this was the fucking Motts! It reeked through the bag filled with bags, it just smelled so damn good. This shit was the real purple haze that you trip out just staring at a fucking bud.

"Check in with me or Rocco each day and let us know how it's going and if there are any problems - Rocco over there likes to handle problems. You get $5 on a bag and two for your head. Is that clear or do you want me to speak slower? “He smiled.

"Here's my number" Rocco said as he handed me a business card that looked like this:

TREES - ROCCO
917.373.3333
WHAT

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