Page 95 of It’s The Dawg In Him For Me

As soon as Blaze bent the corner and saw us, that nigga froze.

“It ain’t the Grim Reaper,” I said. “But I'm finna send you on.”

I pointed my Glock at Blaze, and he went running up the hall, yelling at the rest of the people in the back, letting them know I was there.

The bitches screamed, asking them niggas what to do, and none of them had a clue, which made me and Dre laugh as we walked up the hall getting closer to them. All of a sudden, we heard Blaze yell, "MOVE," and he came outta the room rushing toward us.

I caught him and slammed him against the wall.

“Where the fuck you thought you were goin’?” I asked.

He looked at me. That hard exterior that he had melted away quick.

“Man, Rosama, come on,” he said with his feet dangling off the ground. “We are boys. We been niggas since a jit, and this is how you gonna move?” he asked.

I looked back at Dre, damn near confused like that nigga wasn’t causing all the issues we had.

“Did jail fuck ya head up, nigga?” I asked. “You set me up to lose my bitch for what? What the fuck you gain from it?”

“Man, the bitch played me. She knew she was on your dick when I met her. Bitches don’t play with me.”

I laughed. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You are a Brooklyn nigga that JUST got outta the pen. You don’t have any money ‘cause you more worried about pussy than g’tting a bag that I tried to put you on to, and you are not the nigga around Brooklyn. That spot been taken for years, by me. You are just a worker, a fan, and a nigga that can’t get right.”

That lame ass nigga stole me in my face, making me laugh like I wasn’t the one with the Glock. I upped it and shot the nigga in the middle of his forehead before he could think twice about the dumb mistake he had just made.

When them bitches and Brandon heard the sound of the Glock ring out, they poked their heads out, and Brandon lost it.

“NOOOOO!!!” he cried out. “Brah, Blaze, get the fuck up!”

“He’s gone, boo,” one of the girls said. “You need to come back in here.”

Brandon closed Blaze’s eyes, and his attention turned to us.

“Now, I can give you a pass, or you can make your brotha’s issue yours. How you want to move?”

Brandon stared us down for a minute, then exhaled.

“I will take care of brah,” he said, sounding so defeated.

I nodded. “Smart man.”

As me and Dre walked outta the house, I yelled back and asked, “Are you ready to get to the money?”

“Yeah, Ro, I will get with you tomorrow.”

I tapped Dre on his chest. “I knew that nigga was the smart one.”

We walked out, got in the whip, and sped off.

“I can’t believe you let Brandon live,” Dre expressed.

“He was following his brotha, that nigga is not the leader type.”

After stopping at the pizza place around the corner from the trap, we got there and sat on the steps, watching the traffic in the streets. Kids were playing, old heads cleaning their cars, and the neighborhood ladies were off to the side talking nasty bout me and my nigga.

As I ate my pizza, I checked my phone. I didn’t have no missed calls or texts from Nylah, and that shit was blowing me.

“You still haven’t heard from her?”