Page 11 of It’s The Dawg In Him For Me

I hopped in my car and pulled off while she was still yelling out the window.

I wasn’t about to argue with a bitch whose number wasn’t in my phone.

Just like clockwork, at 3:45 my phone started going off. I glanced down at it and saw I had some missed calls and texts from the night before. I had three missed calls from my contact DON’T ANSWER.

I sucked my teeth and kept scrollin’, damn sure wasn’t worried about that call, and called my nigga Dre back.

“Yo, where the fuck you at, nigga?” he answered on the second ring, music already blastin’ in the background like the nigga ain’t been to sleep.

“Just left a shorty’s crib,” I said, laughing a lil’ thinkin’ about how she was hangin’ out the window yellin’.

“Which shorty?”

“Nigga, I don’t even know, some bitch I met at that block party.”

Dre died laughin’. “Nigga, you a whole menace through Brooklyn.”

“Them bird bitches is nothing special. Bitch gonna get mad ‘cause I was leavin’. It’s not my fault they catch feelings after a couple rounds of some good dick.”

“You need Jesus,” he said, still laughin’. “You pullin’ up later? Nem said they got the spot on Norstrand poppin’ tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ma slide. I need to handle some business, but I’ma be through.”

I hung up and merged on the avenue, windows cracked, radio low, mind still stuck on them missed calls. It wasn’t even four in the mornin’ and a bird was already trying to be a lot. I let the music drown that out and kept it movin’.

First stop was up in Flatbush. I picked up my nigga Twan, and we went to hit a lick we’ve been sittin’ on for a minute. Wasn’t nothing major, in and out in like twenty minutes, but that’s extra bread in the pocket before the sun even up, and I ain’t never turned that down.

Once I dropped that nigga off, I went to the gym. It was still early, and the spot was pretty much empty, with the same regulars that I was always in there with, doing the same routine. I hit the treadmill first, then the weights, getting my blood pumpin’ and trying to keep my head clear for the day ahead.

I spent about an hour there, slid to my apartment to get changed, and served some junkies in my building. I wanted to chill for a minute, have some time to myself, but Dre was texting about plays, and some bitches at the trap were waiting to serve me.

By the time I stepped outta my crib, Brooklyn was alive. Bitches were walking up and down the sidewalk with their friends. Niggas was on the corner rollin’ dice and trying to catch a shorty in passin'. The old head was sweeping the dirt while talking shit the whole time.

“Yoo!” I yelled out as I headed to my whip. The block already knew it was me. They stopped, looked, and waved or yelled back.

After catchin’ a few more plays, I finally pulled up to the trap. Dre was already outside arguing with somebody on the phone about a re-up like clockwork.

“Nigga, finally,” he said, hangin’ up soon as he saw me. “Thought you fell back asleep.”

“Nah, I had some shit to take care of.” I dapped him up and posted on the stoop next to him.

Bitches start to flock over worse than junkies, like they had a radar on a nigga. A couple of ‘em sat out there with us, laughin’ at whatever Dre was sayin’, posting for the block to see. This light-skinned bitch who be around a lot hopped in my whip after a minute—a nigga don't even gotta explain what was finna happen. We pulled off, and around twenty minutes later I was dropping her back off with a dap and was back on the stoop like I never left.

My day moved the way it was supposed to. Money was steady coming in. Niggas pulled up, needed shit handled. I would put my people on it for a price and kept it pushing .

Whole time, DON’T ANSWER was still calling my damn phone like she lost her mind—I still wasn’t picking up.

Around noon, my phone rang. I was scared to look, but this time it was for business, a drop that needed to happen out in the Bronx. I was just out there the other night, but for the amount of money, I didn’t mind going back.

I hopped up off the stoop and told Dre I would be back around the way later, then hopped in my whip and pulled off.

Traffic wasn’t too bad getting out there. I vibed to Dave East, lit my blunt, and handled business on my phone when the car in front of me stopped short outta nowhere, and I clipped the back of it before I could even hit the brakes right.

“Fuck!” I said under my breath and followed the car in front of me, pulling over to the side.

I threw the car in park and hopped out quick with an attitude, ready to talk a nigga down for not paying the fuck attention, when the driver's door on the other car opened and out stepped a shorty who looked like she was ready to catch a body over a bumper.

She had this look on her face. Mean, ready, unbothered. She walked up on me like she didn’t care how big I was compared to her.