sure my dude was fat but he was still my homeboy. We knew ourpeoples didn’t bang with each other, but they all went about their business as if the others didn’t exist, like they weren’t hustling on different ends of the block.
One day them Squad Six boys weren’t around after school, so I dribbled my basketball in the street, crossing up the sewer caps. When they came back to the block they were all fired up and D-roc kept telling me, “Dre, don’t let me catch you rolling with that fuckin’ nigga Smoke’s little brother no more. We don’t fuck with them. Period.”
To stay loyal to the game, from that day forward me and Beezy were strictly school friends. It was weird having a best friend that only lived up the block yet we had to sneak around like criminals just to kick it. I was loyal for a little bit, but shit, Beezy was one of my best friends. Plus I couldn’t really be in on all the real Squad Six dirt anyway, like why I wasn’t supposed to be talking to Beezy in the first place.
“Andre. You only ’bout what? Ten or eleven? You got some shit going on for you, lil’ nig. Just play your position, keep your eyes peeled, go to school, and be a good kid, son-dun. Shit, you see us out here all day, these house-broads calling the cops on niggas, haters trying to run up and shit. Just enjoy now, because once you punch that clock the work don’t never stop, ya dig?”
This is the sermon Reggie used to give me every time I would try to get in on the good stuff, like riding out with the boys. Then came the day. Ma asked me why she hadn’t seen Beezy around lately, and when I told her that I wasn’t supposed to be chilling with him she told me, “Negro, this is the U-S of A. If you want to hang out with Miss Myra’s boy from up the street, then you do that. I like Reggie but the rest of them punks ain’t ’bout nothin’. Listen to Reggie. Not Claude,not Buggy, not Sticks, not Tony, and especially not that fool D-roc, or any of the rest of them fools.”
With Ma’s good ammo winding up my back, one day me and Beezy snuck away after school and went to the basketball courts at Kelly Park to play some one-on-one. As I was working Beezy’s chunky butt out I heard some noise coming from behind us. It was the boom from the bass in D-roc’s car. I can tell his speakers from anywhere. You can hear them before you see him. When I heard the bass my heart dropped. I wanted to run and hide in a trash can. I knew it was him and the Squad Six boys, that’s how they roll. I also knew that when they got here they were not going to be feeling this little stunt. Really there wasn’t shit to do but just whoop Beezy’s ass in the game. Whoop him long and strong. That way at least I might get some props after the game. I had been working on my jump shot, like Reggie said to do.
As if things weren’t already getting funky enough, about five minutes after my Squad Six boys got there and didn’t even address me, I looked down off the court and I could see Smoke and company rolling toward the park too. Right as Smoke and his crew got to the court I had game point. Both crews were postin’ on picnic tables on opposite sides of the court.
From the roar of both crews I could tell shit was about to hit the fan. Me and Beezy returned to sworn enemies. Beezy checked me the ball and I drove baseline on him. Up and under and the game was over. With both crews watchin’ close, the tension in the air felt like Nana Tanks’s homemade pickled pepper sauce. I thought my heart was going to pop out of my throat.
D-roc yelled out, “Man, we just the best, ain’t it!
Squad Six!
We got little niggas that’ll body ya!” He jumped up and down with his fist pumping into the air like he was letting off shots. Now I don’t really think he was speaking to anyone in particular, but Kendrick, Smoke’s homeboy, seemed to take a special offense to D-roc poppin’ off at the lip like that.
“Yeah ’ight, nigga, you better shut the
One day them Squad Six boys weren’t around after school, so I dribbled my basketball in the street, crossing up the sewer caps. When they came back to the block they were all fired up and D-roc kept telling me, “Dre, don’t let me catch you rolling with that fuckin’ nigga Smoke’s little brother no more. We don’t fuck with them. Period.”
To stay loyal to the game, from that day forward me and Beezy were strictly school friends. It was weird having a best friend that only lived up the block yet we had to sneak around like criminals just to kick it. I was loyal for a little bit, but shit, Beezy was one of my best friends. Plus I couldn’t really be in on all the real Squad Six dirt anyway, like why I wasn’t supposed to be talking to Beezy in the first place.
“Andre. You only ’bout what? Ten or eleven? You got some shit going on for you, lil’ nig. Just play your position, keep your eyes peeled, go to school, and be a good kid, son-dun. Shit, you see us out here all day, these house-broads calling the cops on niggas, haters trying to run up and shit. Just enjoy now, because once you punch that clock the work don’t never stop, ya dig?”
This is the sermon Reggie used to give me every time I would try to get in on the good stuff, like riding out with the boys. Then came the day. Ma asked me why she hadn’t seen Beezy around lately, and when I told her that I wasn’t supposed to be chilling with him she told me, “Negro, this is the U-S of A. If you want to hang out with Miss Myra’s boy from up the street, then you do that. I like Reggie but the rest of them punks ain’t ’bout nothin’. Listen to Reggie. Not Claude,not Buggy, not Sticks, not Tony, and especially not that fool D-roc, or any of the rest of them fools.”
With Ma’s good ammo winding up my back, one day me and Beezy snuck away after school and went to the basketball courts at Kelly Park to play some one-on-one. As I was working Beezy’s chunky butt out I heard some noise coming from behind us. It was the boom from the bass in D-roc’s car. I can tell his speakers from anywhere. You can hear them before you see him. When I heard the bass my heart dropped. I wanted to run and hide in a trash can. I knew it was him and the Squad Six boys, that’s how they roll. I also knew that when they got here they were not going to be feeling this little stunt. Really there wasn’t shit to do but just whoop Beezy’s ass in the game. Whoop him long and strong. That way at least I might get some props after the game. I had been working on my jump shot, like Reggie said to do.
As if things weren’t already getting funky enough, about five minutes after my Squad Six boys got there and didn’t even address me, I looked down off the court and I could see Smoke and company rolling toward the park too. Right as Smoke and his crew got to the court I had game point. Both crews were postin’ on picnic tables on opposite sides of the court.
From the roar of both crews I could tell shit was about to hit the fan. Me and Beezy returned to sworn enemies. Beezy checked me the ball and I drove baseline on him. Up and under and the game was over. With both crews watchin’ close, the tension in the air felt like Nana Tanks’s homemade pickled pepper sauce. I thought my heart was going to pop out of my throat.
D-roc yelled out, “Man, we just the best, ain’t it!
Squad Six!
We got little niggas that’ll body ya!” He jumped up and down with his fist pumping into the air like he was letting off shots. Now I don’t really think he was speaking to anyone in particular, but Kendrick, Smoke’s homeboy, seemed to take a special offense to D-roc poppin’ off at the lip like that.
“Yeah ’ight, nigga, you better shut the
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