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a pound.
    â€œJust laying low until my leg heal. What you getting into today?”
    â€œGotta finish picking up this money,” Tone said. “Who the last person you saw so I can take it from there?”
    â€œUmmm ... that li’l nigga Rice.” Maine suddenly remembered.
    â€œA’ight, bet.” Tone turned on his heels and headed for the door.
    â€œYo, hold up,” Maine called out. “Ya pops said for you to take this nigga with you.” He motioned his head at the young nigga who had opened the door.
    â€œWho? This nigga right here?” Tone asked, his face crumpled up.
    â€œYup.” Maine laughed.
    â€œYo, fam, what’s ya name?”
    â€œYoung Mike.”
    â€œCome on, li’l nigga, let’s go,” Tone said with an attitude as he exited the apartment.
    Once they got to the car Young Mike said, “I appreciate the opportunity.”
    â€œJust shut up and ride.” Tone popped in a Young Jeezy mixtape and pulled off out into traffic.
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    Tone pulled over and let the engine die. “You strapped?”
    â€œYou already know,” Young Mike said confidently as the two exited the vehicle. Young Mike followed Tone inside the building to an apartment all the way to the end of the hall.
    Tone knocked on the door and waited for an answer. A short guy wearing a wifebeater answered the door.
    â€œWhat’s good?” Li’l Carlos stepped to the side so the two men could enter.
    â€œYou tell me,” Tone said, posting up. “You got that for me?”
    â€œYeah, it’s right here.” Li’l Carlos grabbed the book bag from off the table and handed it to Tone.
    â€œNah. Give it to him,” Tone said, nodding toward Young Mike, who took the book bag from Li’l Carlos and handed him the half-empty garbage bag he was carrying.
    â€œI should be done with this in like two days,” Li’l Carlos said, looking inside the garbage bag.
    â€œYou know what to do when you get low.” Tone gave Li’l Carlos a pound, and him and Young Mike made their exit.
    For the rest of the day Tone rode around with Young Mike taking care of business. After hours of talking to the young hustler, he found out that Young Mike wasn’t that bad after all.
    â€œI’m hungrier than a muthafucka,” Young Mike said.
    â€œThis the last run for the night. We grab something to eat soon as we finish.” Tone was about to say something else to Young Mike, when he saw a familiar face standing on the corner. He quickly pulled over. “Let’s switch places,” he said, and him and Young Mike switched seats.
    â€œWhat’s good?” Young Mike asked.
    â€œClown I got a problem with back there standing on the corner like shit is sweet,” Tone said as he pulled out his .40-cal. “Pull this muthafucka back around and slow down when we hit the corner.”
    Young Mike made a quick U-turn and slowed down when he reached the corner, where Big Phil stood talking to a few of his workers. He had only planned on being there for about five minutes, but twenty minutes later he found himself on the corner laughing and poppin’ shit.
    â€œA’ight, slow down right here,” Tone said. As soon as he saw Big Phil, he stuck his arm out the window and squeezed the trigger repeatedly.
    POW! POW! POW! POW! POW!
    The first shot hit Big Phil in his hip, causing him to spin around and hit the ground.
    Big Phil quickly pulled out his Smith & Wesson and fired three shots into the back door.
    Tone laid down three more people who stood on the corner, before he pulled his arm back inside the window. “Don’t drive so fast.” Tone wiped his prints off the gun then tossed it out the window.
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    Young Mike pulled up in front of his crib and slid out the driver’s seat. “Holla at me tomorrow,” he said as he gave Tone a pound.
    â€œI got you.” Tone walked around the car and slid