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"I AIN'T TRYNA SQUASH NO BEEF, NIGGA. WE INTO IT TILL' YOU DIE, REAL STREET NIGGA," I shouted out, pulling the collar of my jacket roughly, "AT YO' FUNERAL I MIGHT JUST SLIDE, REST IN PEE, NIGGA."
I watched all the eyes in the crowed stare at me, miserable ass, ugly ass, depressed ass, crack head ass, broke ass : faces, upset that I was finally free.
It's been about a month, but a real one was breathing real air.
"SHOOT UP EVERYBODY OUTSIDE, BET WOOSKI FEEL THIS ONE," I continued to shout, a huge smirk on my face when I saw all of Natasha's sisters standing in shame.
They wasn't no real niggas. They prolly got some dicks, but they was bitch made. I'd pop they asses right here if it wasn't fa' 12.
"I GOT CLIPS LIKE MEL GIBSON. ALL FULL WITH NONE EMPTY." I spat a ball of saliva in front of one of the sisters feet as the News reporters followed behind me with quickness.
"I KNOW NIGGAS SCARED TO COME AROUND WHEN I POP UP OUTSIDE. I DONE GAVE NIGGAS WHOLE HEAD STARTS AND STILL I HAWKED EM' DOWN!" I finally stopped walking so the cameras could catch up to me.
I liked when the white folk put me in they clips and lenses. A nigga like me needed motion, especially after the shit I done went through in that cell.
"Mr. Martin is this you admitting to committing the murder?" One of the blonde broadcasters asked, mic all in my face.
"Bitch, you ain't heard of King Von?" I scoffed loudly, snatching her mic out her hand, "I ain't kill that stupid bastard, but whoever did it: I just know they sexy."
Loud groans and croaks grew through the crowd as the mic hit the ground. I had no choice but to laugh at their loss.
"Damn, the whole hood here, but ain't no cookout?" I kissed my teeth, waiting for anyone to speak up, but there was nothing. "Aw, y'all silent ain't it?"
"THEY SHOULD'VE KILLED YOU IN THERE!" A cranky voice shouted in disbelief and I turned around to see it was Rocky's momma, another nigga I slid through years ago.
"You still keep tabs on me Ms. Corrine? Don't do that." I swung my pointer finger side to side, watching her face swell red.
"MR. MARTIN, Is it true that you set up Natasha Hefner's murder?" Another bot shouted out, louder than the ones around me.
I rubbed my forehead gently, looking up to pretend my confusion on this topic. "Natasha who?"
"She was supposed to be the eyewitness sir!"
"Oh damn," I held my hand against my chest and poked my eyes out in shock, "They done got ha' too?"
