only the strong survives… ayyite? It’s like the jungle, Vince. We lions, the cannibals in this fuckin’ concrete jungle and them junkies, the competitors, the haters, and even five-o, are prey. They are weak. If they try to come at us on some disrespectful shit, we tear and shred them like muthafuckin’ lions in Africa. In this here game you better fuckin’ respect strong and hard, cuz if you don’t, then this shit is gonna come back and bite you on the ass… I came up in da game strong, cuz I put my heart into this shit. I don’t care if you’re peddling drugs on some dirty ass street corner day after day. Be the best hustler on that corner. Sell them rocks like your package is the last package on the earth. That’s what I expect. You do this with heart, go at it a hundred and ten percent or don’t do it at all. A hundred and ten percent…?” Tyriq asked.
“Yeah, my nigga I’m wit’ you,” I replied.
“Let’s go shopping, tonight, you rolling fresh.”
Tyriq, Spoon, and I got out of Tyriq’s new Yukon sitting on 24” spinning chromed rims. It felt so good, as the three of us approached Occasions on Merrick Blvd. Dressed in Jockey waffle crewneck shirt, denim jeans, and suede shoes, I was feeling like a don. Tyriq sported a Mitchell & Ness ‘65 Philadelphia 76ers jacket, denim jeans, and white Nikes. Spoon rocked a green Pelle Pelle jacket, T-shirt, matching limited edition Air Force Ones and Enyce sweat pants.
Hordes of people were waiting to get in. The ladies were all looking sexy. We walked through the thick crowd heading for the front. No one said a word to us. Two brawny bouncers let Tyriq and Spoon through immediately. It became a problem when I tried to follow.
“You gotta wait,” he told me in a stern voice, pushing me back.
“Tyriq, what’s good?” I called out.
“This Vince, he down,” Tyriq said.
“I’m sorry…ah, I didn’t know.” The bouncer nodded.
I eyed him as I passed. The nightclub was on and popping. Music bumping and the ladies were looking good. I followed closely behind Tyriq and Spoon to the VIP. where bottles of Cristal, Moet and beautiful women flooded the room.
I never experienced anything like this. The love and respect was overwhelming. Everyone greeted Tyriq, especially Spoon with mad love.
The ladies stuck to them like white on rice. I was excited but nervous. I knew a few but many didn’t know me. It was a new world for me.
Tip was clad in his usual wife-beater, flexing his biceps and having a shortie on his lap. I smiled when she started nibbling his ear.
Tyriq threw his arm around me, while clutching a bottle of Moet.
“Yo, this my nigga, Vince, right here. He’s family, ayyite? So y’all treat this nigga with respect.”
The deejay had the spot jumping with jams and I was right up on the ladies getting my game on.
During the course of the night, I became familiar with the crew and bitches. Tip, Killer Ty and Bones were Tyriq’s main enforcers. John-John, Malik, Red, Loc and Spoon were lieutenants.
John-John was a huge gorilla looking linebacker mutha fucka, who was six-three and two hundred and seventy-five pounds easy, with a lazy eye. Red, was a high yellow slim looking nigga with short curly hair. Malik was a stout looking muthafucka, with a thick black beard and heavily tattood. Loc was a light skinned, pretty boy. His hair was styled like Snoop Dogg and he had gray eyes.
Tyriq was lounging, sipping Cristal with a bitch. Tip walked over and whispered something in his ear. The look on Tyriq’s face changed. He got up with a sense of urgency.
“Yo, Tyriq, everything good…?” I asked when he was close to me.
“I gotta go handle sump’n. Enjoy yourself Vince,” he said rushing from the VIP with Tip, Killer Ty, and Bones following.
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