29) KNOW YOUR ENEMY

I got a letter from Barbra today. She said that baby Rhaqil  is doing good. I feel fucked up, because there is nothing I can do for the kid. I don't know how single mothers do it.

I've come to the conclusion that my grandmother has cursed me. Her words have tempted the fates and birthed into existence "my now." I can remember a least a dozen times she has evoked these words... "Keep doing what you doing... You gonna end up just like Charles Reese."
Charles Reese is my biological father. He, like I am at this moment, sat behind a prison wall at the time of my birth. I, like he has, sat behind a prison wall at the birth of my son.


Me and Fraction are kind of beefing. The nigga eats raw garlic three times a day to fight infection. Now I ain't tripping on the fact that a nigga trying to stay healthy, but damn! The smell emanates through his skin. The cell smell like a fucking Italian restaurant. I've spoken on it, but I'm gonna leave it alone for a while.

 I've come up with a plan to get rid of Eric. Personally I like the nigga. He was always a cool cat on the streets. I'd see him at the club and he would always send a round of drinks to my table. Not because we was cool like that... Eric just liked to floss. Let's keep it real, niggas like us were making a killing on the bricks but, Eric liked mother fuckers to know he had it going on. To me he was just a mark. As much money as I made I ALWAYS screamed broke. No need to bring unwanted attention to me or my crew. I found out from Ben that Eric was a little short on money. I guess the feds confiscated his cash too. I got Ben to find out if Eric would be down to sell a little weed. Eric was down with it instantly. I gave Ben a hundred dollars worth of weed which he gave to Eric. The plan was for Eric to sell the weed and keep fifty dollars from every sack he sold. I wasn't trippin cause I was making a killing on the Boy and that covered all the weed I was stocking up on. Ben told me Eric got rid of it all in one day. Perfect! That's just what I wanted. Time for plan B...

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