K'wan - Gutter

“I hear you, cuz,” Lil Gunn said.

“Man, don’t even trip that shit ’cause you know we fixing to ride for the big homey,” Criminal told him, trying to pick his spirits up.

“That’s what I’m talking about; I’m ready to blast on something!” Lil Gunn said eagerly.

“Man, you ain’t gonna do shit but stay your ass in the house where women and children are supposed to be. This ain’t something for kids, man,” Gutter told him.

“Man, Criminal ain’t but a year or two older than me,” Lil Gunn pointed out.

“But he ain’t my little cousin.” Gutter mushed him playfully. “Dig, I know you can handle yourself, Gunn, but I promised Auntie that I’d try to deprogram some of that street shit outta you.”

“Come on, G, that’s my pops!”

“Yeah, and you done already went and made your mark for him, which I’m still thinking about fucking you up about. Gunn, you’re still a shorty, man, no matter how many niggaz you done shot. Enjoy being a kid for a while, because when you blink it’ll be all gone, feel me?”

“Yeah, man,” Lil Gunn mumbled.

“Don’t feel bad, cuz. Just think, tomorrow night we’ll be on in New York City. If you thought L.A. was live, wait till you get a taste of the city. Them bitches love Cali niggaz.”

“Straight up?” Lil Gunn asked excitedly.

“Square biz, loc. Besides, you a Soladine nigga, pulling hoes is in your genes. Now go on in the house and start getting your shit ready. We still got a lot to do before we bail and I still gotta convince ya mama to let you roll.”

“She ain’t gonna give a damn. Not having to look after me will just give her more time to get faded.” Lil Gunn stomped off to the house.

“Watch your mouth!” Gutter called after Gunn, who slammed the screen door behind him.

“Man, you really ain’t gonna let that nigga get it in for his pops?” Criminal asked.

“Hell, nah, I ain’t letting him ride. That there is a child, Criminal, this shit ain’t for him.”

Criminal shrugged. “It ain’t really for none of us, but it’s what we got. Maybe if you let him ride out he’ll get it out of his system.”

“Let me tell you something.” Gutter grabbed Criminal by the collar of his T-shirt. “That’s my uncle’s boy and he ain’t gonna fall in line with this dumb shit. If I ever hear talk of a nigga letting Gunn ride again, I’m gonna be a real firm supporter of Crip-on-Crip violence, you understand me?”

“A’ight, homey, damn!” Criminal cringed. He’d heard stories about Gutter’s wrath and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

“Good.” He let him go and then smoothed Criminal’s T-shirt.

“Look, man, sorry about all that. Check, y’all go out and start rounding up them cars. When the sun goes down we ride on oh-las.”

MAJOR BLOODpaced back and forth under the L on 128th and Twelfth. There was planning to be done and enemies to lay and Hawk wanted a sit-down. He had no idea what the man wanted to talk about and frankly didn’t care. All he wanted to do was get it over with so he could go back to busting Crip skulls. The news of B-High’s death didn’t sit well with him.

B-High was a two-bit junkie and a killer, but one of the few friends Major Blood had left. It should’ve been a simple task for him to follow Sharell and then kill her, but something had gone wrong. Now Major Blood would most likely have to kill the bitch his self, if he could even find out where she’d disappeared to. She and Satin had vanished and nobody seemed to know where they were, but they couldn’t hide forever and he always filled his contracts, no matter how long they took.

“Man, what you think he wants?” Eddie asked nervously.

“Like I fucking care. They smoked Miguel, man. I don’t wanna hear nothing other than a full-out strike come outta that dude’s mouth,” Tito said.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, my nigga. We’ve played enough, now we crush Harlem and bring the glory back to the five. This is the part of the movie where the thugs cry,” he vowed.

“There he go right there.” Eddie nodded to a black Mercedes truck that was coming down the block. Before the car had even come to a complete stop, Hawk was on the curb and making hurried steps toward the trio.

“Hawk, what’s popping, baby?” Eddie grinned.

“You, shut the fuck up.” He pointed at Eddie, wiping the smile from his face. “Blood,” he addressed Major, “I need to holla at you.”

Major Blood shrugged his shoulders. “So talk.”

“What the fuck are you out here doing?” Hawk questioned. Red and Shotta had parked the car and were a few paces away watching the scene.

“My job, nigga. Fuck you think I’m doing?” Major Blood shot back.

“I don’t recall you making all of us hot being a part of your job description. Do you know I just got outta lockup?”

“They just springing you from the Island?” Major asked in an uninterested tone.

“No, the precinct.”

“Then what the fuck is you crying about, Hawk. So you had to spend a few hours in the can, personally I think it’s good for your character.” Major snickered.

Hawk took a deep breath. “Look, homey, don’t break fly with me. I’m talking about this sick-ass game you’re playing with Gutter’s people. You’ve got the police crawling all over the hood behind this shit. Why don’t you just whack who you gotta whack and be done with it?”

“Oh, I’m gonna kill Gutter all right, but I’m gonna do it in my own time, on my own terms,” Major said.

Seeing that reasoning with Major wasn’t working, Hawk decided to throw his weight around. “Check this, Blood, you a respected member of this thing of ours, but I’m calling the shots in Harlem. Now, you done turned a fruitful-ass spot into a shooting gallery all because of some sick-ass game you’re trying to play with Gutter. My advice to you is to do what you came for and get on the next thing smoking back west.”

Major stared at him in disbelief. “Your advice? Muthafucka, who is you to advise me of anything? Blood, them niggaz smoked my little man, so this grudge is personal now. First I’m gonna finish smashing on Harlem, then I’m gonna kill Gutter’s bitch, and just when that nigga think it can’t get no worse I’m gonna pop his fucking head off. So my advice to you, is to try and stay out of the cross fire. I’d hate to see you end up like Bad Ass.”

Hawk felt a chill at that statement. It was rumored that Major had had the O.G. killed, but the evidence was never solid enough to bring him before the nation on charges of treason. Hawk knew that Major was trying to intimidate him and if he let him the killer would surely have free rein in New York.

“Man, I ain’t Bad Ass!” Hawk shot back. “I’ve been putting in work for a long time, Blood, don’t test me.”

“Fuck outta here.” Major laughed him off. “When is the last time you shot some fucking body? See, that’s the problem with you old niggaz.” Major inched closer to him.

“Watch ya self, son,” Red spoke up. He moved closer to Hawk, but Major Blood ignored him.

“When y’all come up on a few dollars,” Major Blood continued, “you lose that edge, and that is a sign of weakness.” Without warning he shot Red in the chest, dropping him. Shotta moved to draw, but Tito had him covered.

“You know what they say about the weak and the strong.” Major rubbed the hot barrel across Hawk’s face.

“You loony muthafucka, if you kill me then your ass will never make it out of New York. You’ll spend the rest of your days as a hunted man.” It was a weak threat, but it was all Hawk could think of to say to save his life.

Major just laughed at him. “Baby boy, your name don’t hold that kinda weight anymore. It’s a new day in Harlem, Blood,” Major squeezed the trigger and hit Hawk once in the chest, surprising all in attendance.