Background information:The book is about a young man named Christopher who loses his mother at a young age who in return turns to the streets to become a man.Christopher is faced with many ordeals and his main motive is money until his girlfriend Jazz becomes pregnant with his baby.
2003
The year 2003 is the year I will never forget and that’s for a couple of reasons. My mother got so fed up with my pops she went out one night and got herself killed by some little young nigga named Rico. My mom was a hard working woman but she let my pop’s get the best of her. She had a drug habit and I guess the drugs took over her. I loved my mama and I don’t think any less of her because she used drugs. My mother wasn’t a full pledged crack head she just used them to escape the hell my father put her through. I turned thirteen that year and at the same time I was forced to show myself how to be a man since my father already didn’t give a damn about me or the fact that my mama; his wife of twelve years had just died. I guess it was a few days after my birthday that I figured out my way to make stacks. I was tired of little school yard bullshit and little young nigga’s showing me up. I had never had money and I felt like it was my time to shine. I knew this one dude that always had the newest shit and you would never catch him wearing the same shit twice. I looked up to that nigga like he was some kind of GOD. I wanted to go above and beyond what he was doing so I took forth the steps to get my paper just like the next nigga. I never thought of myself as being a street nigga but I had to do what I had to do regardless money was money.
It was a hot day in May and I was walking home from school when I bumped into Mike A.K.A “Sticky Fingers.” He got the name because the nigga could take shit from right up under a fly. He was about eighteen but if you didn’t know him from around the way you would think he was about twenty-five, my mans was doing his grown man. He had all the hoes and yes I mean hoes, chicks that would do anything to get a dollar. I never disrespected females but they deserved the title; sobbing niggas up in hallways and in the back of their lacks; shit was crazy. He was pushing fancy whips and his wrist game was proper. I would watch BET and the same shit rappers had he had. Dude had it all and I had to get in tight cause I wanted to have it all plus some, I owed it to my mom’s she did everything under the sun for me and I never did shit but bitch to her about what I didn’t have. Any way all that shit is irrelevant back to my point about Sticky Fingers the nigga got me in. I started off talking smart and shit; letting that nigga know that I knew my numbers and right off the back I had his attention. He was smart but he could be smarter but he ran with dumb mother fucka’s. I threw my game at him and walked away all nonchalantly. I didn’t want to try too hard; I wanted that nigga coming to me.
“Aye my man’s what’s yo name?” He yelled out.
I looked back, “Chris.”
He laughed,” Iight kid I see you talk a good game. Are you about that money or not?”
“Hell yeah!” I said stopping dead in my tracks.
He threw me a cell phone,” When it rings you come; no bullshit lil nigga.”
I already knew I was in because word got out later that night that Sticky Fingers had an eye for a young nigga who was good at punching numbers and that’s how I got my start. I instantly became cocky within my domain, but I didn’t let the world know that I was on a high. Most of the time Sticky had me doing small time shit counting and bagging money but I wanted to be in the major leagues and run with the big boys. I wanted to be delivering and dropping off shit most of all I wanted to be one of his right hand men.
I started having cash daily and I wasn’t worried about shit but getting my money. A few months later my pop’s kicked me out after a fight we had, I didn’t give a damn I had a chick Down Town that was holding me down so I had a place to rest my head at night. I was showering her with money and dicking her down so she didn’t have shit to complain about. Shawty was sixteen and had her own spot, life was all good. I was hitting the block every day with sticky hitting mad licks and running up on little chump’s that tried to get in our way. I was making major money now I had worked my way in tight with all of sticky nigga’s plus I had my own little side hustle. Don’t get in twisted I still went to school every day because if it there were two thing’s that my pop’s did teach me; don’t let the money make you and don’t be dumb while making money. I had opened three bank accounts and money kept rolling in. I had ol girl falling in love and we slowly had been making our way up the food chain. At first I thought she was in it for the money but she proved me wrong. There would be times where I didn’t even see her or drop cash on her and she still held it down for me. Sometimes if I didn’t make it home by the usual she would call to make sure I was iight. Nigga’s on the block would tease me saying we was playing house, if we were I liked it.
Fresh Boy
When 2004 rolled around I had young and old nigga’s looking up to me. In a matter of months I was flipping more bricks for Sticky then most of his goons. I hit high school and thought I was the shit. I was getting mad respect from every angle and most nigga’s was trying to make friends just to get in where they fit in. I wasn’t worried about the little high school hype my motive was to learn and then get back to the money. I took time out every day to study and do home work, I couldn’t be an illiterate guy it didn’t fit my swag. Chicks threw it at me left and right but I didn’t crave what they were offering. Most of them were bitches from off my block that wouldn’t give me the time of the day. I already had a Ride or Die at the crib regardless of who was throwing their panties at me. Sticky had took me in and showed me all the tricks and rules to the streets. I looked up to him he because he showed a little nigga like me respect and unlike most block boys a lot more people respected him than feared him. Sticky tried to do shit the clean way and not use guns, just straight knuckles. He never shed blood unless it was necessary. Soon all that shit about not runn’n with guns changed when he got shot walking to his car outside his girl’s house. Eighteen years old and laying in the bed hooked to too many machines to count. At that moment I vowed to myself I was going to hold the block down and protect mine what happened to Sticky would never happen to me or so I thought. When you’re a young nigga you think you’re invincible and that’s the same shit that got Sticky gunned down. Out of all of Sticky’s boy’s I was the only one man enough to visit him in the hospital it was straight doe Sticky figured he needed nigga’s to hold down the block and keep an eye on his girl Toni. I made sure that I always was protected; I’d be damn if I got shot up on the block while a little nigga was making a casual stroll. Sticky became suspicious of some of his boys he wasn’t sure if he was set up or not. I figured it was some young buck who was tired of getting shitted on was looking to hit a little lick on Sticky. That was one thing about Sticky and me we never walked around with stacks unless we actually needed them because that’s how you get stuck up on the street. Nigga’s was mad cause we was eaten and they was still hungry. I was fourteen at the time and dudes twice my age paid me my respect which is how “Ace” became my hood name and nobody but my girl Jazz was calling me Chris. This old school cat Big Jim was the first to call me Ace and I ran with it. Big Jim was well respected and most nigga’s was scared of him because his rap sheet was as long as a river is wide and the cops could never stick him for shit. Big Jim was like the God Father of the hood. I’d rather not be known as a block boy but it’s what I was. The streets had become a part of my life. Thanks to Sticky and dudes like Big Jim my bank account only got bigger and I stayed with food in my stomach.
July 4th just hit and all the hoes were on the Isle. I was in a Caprice Classic with the two tone tent. Ice Wood was banging through my amps and I was on the prowl. No doubt Jazz was my girl but shit I was thirsty for females at the moment. I had this one little brown skin girl on the Eastside who couldn’t get enough of me and I wasn’t even throwing anything her way but the dick. I don’t know if it was the heat or not but I was horny as hell and I was looking for the next chick that I could dick down and be done with. I got fucked in the game when I pulled up on this one brawd Alishia she spit her game until her mans pulled up on us.
“Bitch is you stupid?” He asked jumping out his car.
Jumping out the car like the ice cream man was passing out free weave,” Bbb—baby, what are you doing here?”
He yanked her ass up by her hair,”Fuck are you doing with this nigga?”
I already knew what was about to come my way so I grabbed my nine and just paced myself. I wasn’t a hoe ass nigga but I saw what my mans had up under his shirt. The Nigga didn’t hesitate.
“Are you fucking my girl?” He asked.
Laughing,” Naw man we was just chillen in the cut.”
“Oh I’m funny nigga. Well how about I tell Jazz? Yeah nigga I know who you are.”
I just sat back and listened to what that nigga was saying Jazz was a hood chick but I knew that shit would break her heart before it made her try to gut a nigga like a fish.
I got out the car,” Man all that shit aint even necessary.”
He laughed and walked away.
I hopped in my car and turned the radio up loud as hell and sped off. I was mad as hell but it was my fault. When I got home that night it was about 8:30 and Jazz was sitting right there waiting. Damn word moves fast I thought to myself.
“Hey baby!” I said with this fake as smile.
Jazz launched a picture of us right at me barely missing my head.
I slowly walked towards her,” Baby I’m sorry.”
Tears streamed down her face,” I’m pregnant and you want to creep on me with these little nasty hoes.”
I stopped dead in my tracks Jazz wasn’t the type to lie or cheat so I didn’t dare question if she was fa real.
I sat on the couch next to her,” Damn bae why didn’t you tell me.”
She glared at me, “I was going to tell you tonight but at this moment I don’t even know if I want to have a baby by yo cheating ass.”
Damn that shit stuck a nigga right in the heart. I had to make things right she was the only girl I ever loved and I wasn’t about to let her trip off me and kill the innocence growing inside her.
“Damn Jazz you know I love you girl. I’m an idiot for ever stepping out on you I swear you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I want to take care of you and my baby.”
She just looked at me for a minute and then said,” You know I love you but I’m not going to deal with this bullshit. I want to have your baby but if you’re going to be playing house with other bitches every time I turn my head I’m not going to stick around.”
I nodded,” I know baby I’m done with these hoes. You’re all I need and want.”
I meant that shit too. I wasn’t about to lose the only female who wasn’t after my bank role.
That night me and Jazz made love we didn’t just fuck we connected. I caressed her body with care and with every stroke I got deeper and deeper she was wetter than ever. I think for the first time ever I knew that our love was fa real.
“I love you baby!” She said pressing her head against my chest.
I kissed her forehead,” I love you too.”
After that night I never touched another bitch I spit game but I never went further then conversation. Most females lacked understanding so I had to put a few chicks in their place.
It was late December and Sticky tightened up security because that shit that went down in the summer wasn’t about to fly again. If anybody stepped stupid we had an army waiting to pop off. I wasn’t worried about anything but making my money and staying alive to go home to Jazz every night.
I spent the next months taking care of Jazz’s every need. I brought a crib, diapers, a stroller, books, and a whole bunch of other things. Jazz was about ready to pop she was 9 months and a few weeks. Finally the day came that she had my son. Damn I was happy for more than one reason. Pregnant woman are crazy as hell! It was the happiest moment of my life, I had a son. We decided to name him Christopher Isaiah Williams. I spent the next three years helping Jazz raise Jr., but I still hit the block. Having a baby was a lot of work but at the same time it was fun. I had a chance to raise a child and give him things I never had.
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