step in, homeboy close the door and my new buyer start beefing about my product, saying the heroin I gave him was garbage. I was like, "Yeah, OK. Give me my shit back, `cause I know this nigga lying."
"How you know he lying?" I inquired. This was the first time I ever heard a first hand account of a drug transaction going bad, my ears were plugged.
"Yo', I fuck wit' these Columbians. They got the best dope on the streets, hands down. So it's three of us in the room, and I'm eying these two niggas tryna get a feel as to what they next move gonna be. So then the nigga that's the farthest away from me start pacing back and forth saying he ain't got the product no more.
"So I'm like a'ight, give me my bread. At this point, I already peeped this black duffel bag on the side of the wall. My instincts were telling me my paper was in there, and I wasn't leaving without it. So I told the niggas you got two options: either give me my product or my bread, but I'm leaving wit' one."
"What did the dude say?"
"The two niggas looked at each other, speaking wit' they eyes, and that was my sign to pull out my heat. Them niggas had three hundred and fifty thousand of mine. Somebody was gonna be lullaby off that shit. I asked them one more time for my bread or my drugs. When I caught the nigga standing closest to me wink his eye, "I put a bullet right through it."
"Oh, shit, then what happened?"
"Yo, I blasted off on the other nigga, but instead of the cat I just shot falling back on the wall, his body fell toward me and he knocked my arm causing me to miss my aim. It gave the other nigga time to gain his momentum and he started busting off. I used his partner's body as a shield while I grabbed the duffel bag and fled. You know what happened next, the nigga left standing came at me wit' death on his mind. I know for a fact he and his people's gonna be looking for me."
I didn't even know what to say to Azar. I understood why he had to go hard on those dudes because they were trying to rob him, but unfortunately he didn't finish the job. There is nothing worse than for your enemy to be walking the streets looking to get you. You got to spend the rest of your life watching your back unless you catch his back first. "So what you gon' do now, Azar?" I asked, doubting he even knew.
"Get the fuck outta Brooklyn for a minute. That apartment I was checking up on for you in Harlem should be ready in a week. I already paid the nigga. We supposed to pick up the keys tomorrow. But we can't move in until the end of next week."
All I heard was we, and I had already told Azar that my moms would shit bricks if she found out we was living together.
"Azar, you know my moms ain't going for us living together," I said feeling stressed about the whole situation.
"I know, but you'll be sixteen in a couple of months. We just won't let her know just yet. You can still stay there with her for the time being. Them niggas won't think to look for me in Harlem. I'll keep a low profile and see what the streets are talking `bout."
The next day Azar and I drove to Harlem and picked up the keys to the new apartment. It was in a renovated elevator building on 142nd and Riverside Drive. Azar introduced me to the super as his girlfriend who would also be living there with him. Azar also gave me a bag and told me to hide it somewhere safe at my moms crib. He explained it was emergency money just in case anything went down. He also stressed the importance of learning how to drive and getting my license when I turned sixteen. So for the next couple of days, we drove out to this big empty parking lot in Long Island, and I practiced. Later on that day I stopped at home to hide the bag Azar gave me.
Luckily, in my closest, one of the floor panels was slightly lifting so I hid the bag under there and covered it with my shoes and boxes. I hadn't been home in about three days but my moms wasn't tripping, especially after I hit her off with an extra few hundred dollars and told
"How you know he lying?" I inquired. This was the first time I ever heard a first hand account of a drug transaction going bad, my ears were plugged.
"Yo', I fuck wit' these Columbians. They got the best dope on the streets, hands down. So it's three of us in the room, and I'm eying these two niggas tryna get a feel as to what they next move gonna be. So then the nigga that's the farthest away from me start pacing back and forth saying he ain't got the product no more.
"So I'm like a'ight, give me my bread. At this point, I already peeped this black duffel bag on the side of the wall. My instincts were telling me my paper was in there, and I wasn't leaving without it. So I told the niggas you got two options: either give me my product or my bread, but I'm leaving wit' one."
"What did the dude say?"
"The two niggas looked at each other, speaking wit' they eyes, and that was my sign to pull out my heat. Them niggas had three hundred and fifty thousand of mine. Somebody was gonna be lullaby off that shit. I asked them one more time for my bread or my drugs. When I caught the nigga standing closest to me wink his eye, "I put a bullet right through it."
"Oh, shit, then what happened?"
"Yo, I blasted off on the other nigga, but instead of the cat I just shot falling back on the wall, his body fell toward me and he knocked my arm causing me to miss my aim. It gave the other nigga time to gain his momentum and he started busting off. I used his partner's body as a shield while I grabbed the duffel bag and fled. You know what happened next, the nigga left standing came at me wit' death on his mind. I know for a fact he and his people's gonna be looking for me."
I didn't even know what to say to Azar. I understood why he had to go hard on those dudes because they were trying to rob him, but unfortunately he didn't finish the job. There is nothing worse than for your enemy to be walking the streets looking to get you. You got to spend the rest of your life watching your back unless you catch his back first. "So what you gon' do now, Azar?" I asked, doubting he even knew.
"Get the fuck outta Brooklyn for a minute. That apartment I was checking up on for you in Harlem should be ready in a week. I already paid the nigga. We supposed to pick up the keys tomorrow. But we can't move in until the end of next week."
All I heard was we, and I had already told Azar that my moms would shit bricks if she found out we was living together.
"Azar, you know my moms ain't going for us living together," I said feeling stressed about the whole situation.
"I know, but you'll be sixteen in a couple of months. We just won't let her know just yet. You can still stay there with her for the time being. Them niggas won't think to look for me in Harlem. I'll keep a low profile and see what the streets are talking `bout."
The next day Azar and I drove to Harlem and picked up the keys to the new apartment. It was in a renovated elevator building on 142nd and Riverside Drive. Azar introduced me to the super as his girlfriend who would also be living there with him. Azar also gave me a bag and told me to hide it somewhere safe at my moms crib. He explained it was emergency money just in case anything went down. He also stressed the importance of learning how to drive and getting my license when I turned sixteen. So for the next couple of days, we drove out to this big empty parking lot in Long Island, and I practiced. Later on that day I stopped at home to hide the bag Azar gave me.
Luckily, in my closest, one of the floor panels was slightly lifting so I hid the bag under there and covered it with my shoes and boxes. I hadn't been home in about three days but my moms wasn't tripping, especially after I hit her off with an extra few hundred dollars and told
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