Array 50 Cent - Baby Brother

“Man, fuck you,” Baby Brother said as Sari backed up into him, pushing against him as she walked backward, putting distance between him and Borne. Baby Brother never even associated with the happenings between Borne and his brothers, but he knew these streets were mean and it didn’t matter. He had to either stand firm for his, or be disrespected by fools like this. “Just watch what the fuck comes outta ya mouth when my lady is present, dig?”

Borne laughed again, backing away and into the crowd. “I’m feeling you, chief. You got that good Puerto Rican yummy on lock and don’t want nobody else to get none. I swear to God she look like this bitch I had on a leash this morning, though. Look just like her around the muzzle, yo!”

Pushing Sari aside, Baby Brother lunged into the crowd.

“No!” Sari screamed, clutching his shirt and pulling him back. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and lowered her weight, digging her feet in. Baby Brother stared at the spot where Borne had just mocked him. The crowd had swallowed Borne’s laughing face, but had not erased the sound of his voice from Baby Brother’s ears.

“That motherfucker need to chill….” he growled, his chest heaving. “If I see his ass out here again, it’s going down.”

Sari continued to hold him from behind, and when he turned around and put his arms around her in return, she looked up into his face and spoke. “You didn’t come this far in life by charging after every sucker who pops shit, Z. You know how it goes down out here. We’re targets, baby. My brother’s got crazy enemies in this game, both your brothers got crazy enemies in this game. There’s always gonna be somebody trying to press them by fuckin’ with us. Just let it go, Zabu. We came out to have a good time, right?”

He nodded, then grinned.

“Good,” Sari said, smiling in return. “So fuck Borne. He wasn’t in them sheets while you did your thing this morning, now was he?”

“Nah.” Baby Brother laughed and slapped Sari on the ass. “And he ain’t gonna be in them with us tonight neither.”

With the drama over, they moved onward through the crowd toward Franklin Avenue, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells while Crown Heights got its party on. Baby Brother was in the lead as they wormed inch by inch through the thick, boisterous revelers. He was pulling Sari along with her hand grasped firmly in his when he felt a jerk and his hand was empty.

“Sari!” He turned around and saw her craning her neck, looking through the crowd. She was holding her shirt up to her neck, and the strings of her halter were dangling by her arms.

“Motherfuckers!” she spat. “Somebody untied my strings!”

“Did you see who did it?”

She shook her head no.

Baby Brother scanned the crowd wildly. There were so many people doing so many different things that it was impossible to pinpoint the culprit, but after having those words with Borne he was about ready to wild out and start swinging on any damn body.

“C’mere,” he said, turning her around and taking her pink halter strings in his hands. She lifted her hair and he tied a double knot behind her neck, making sure it couldn’t be pulled free with just a tug.

“Walk in front of me,” he said, guiding her through the crowd ahead of him. They made it down past Nostrand Avenue without any further problems, and by the time they got to Franklin Avenue they were in a good mood again and enjoying the atmosphere.

They partied on Eastern Parkway until late night, then drove over to a club in Bed-Stuy. Sari had switched up from the Coronas she’d bought from a bodega near the parade, and was now drinking Patrón. Baby Brother wasn’t about to take a chance on fucking up Farad’s whip. He let his woman get her head buzzed while he drank Pepsi and stayed straight.

“I’ma get my dance on right now!” Sari said, rocking her hips like a brown-skinned Shakira. Niggahs in the club was clocking her, but they did that shit from a distance because Baby Brother was all up on it, making his status known. “’Cause I ain’t coming to the club no more until you get back home for Christmas.”

He laughed as she killed her pink shorts, making his pants brick up. “The way you like to shake that ass girl? Nah, baby. Don’t stay home waitin’ around on me. You like to dance, mami. Don’t matter if I’m gone. Come on out and dance.”

Sari stopped dancing and stood still in the middle of the crowd. Her eyes flashed.

“Now why you say some shit like that, Z?” she screamed on him, waving her hand in his face. “What’s really going on, huh? What the fuck you tryna tell me? You sending me out to the club because that’s where you gonna be yourself?”

“Man…” Baby Brother looked around, exasperated. Sari was tipsy and off the fuckin’ hook. Yeah, she could get jealous and hotheaded when she got buzzed, but he couldn’t believe his girl was playin’ herself like this. People dancing next to them were starting to stare, and a couple of niggahs in the crowd gave him the clown look.

“Baby why you trippin’ like this? You knew this day was coming! We planned for this shit! Studied together! Swore we would both make it up outta here! Next year you gonna be leaving for college too. Come out West when you graduate, baby. We can be together, girl. We gonna be together, Sari, damn!”

Sari was acting extra insecure and Baby Brother couldn’t understand that shit. He was a stand-up niggah. He loved her, and had already proven that shit with his actions. Besides, as fine as Sari was, there wasn’t no need for her to worry about him pushing up in no other freak’s gushy. He was pussy-bitten to the max. Doped up on Sari. Strung out on everything about her. They’d been tight for three years, and he saw forever in their future. But he saw the glazed look in Sari’s teary eyes. She wasn’t really a drinker, and chugging back that Patrón on top of all them Coronas musta had her head going hard.

“Chill,” he comforted her, hugging her close to his chest and letting her cling to him. “You hungry, baby? Let’s go get something to eat.”

Baby Brother drove toward a little chicken joint off Utica Avenue, but there was a crowd outside when they got there.

“Just take me home,” Sari said before he could park the car.

“What’s up? Oh, it’s too crowded? Nah, all them niggahs ain’t in line, baby. They just standing around tryna pick up some birds. It ain’t gonna take that long.” He opened his door and swung his long legs out, then stood up and leaned back in. “C’mon. Get out. I’m hungry.”

Sari crossed her arms and sat right there. “I said I wanna go home, Z. I don’t want no damn chicken. I just wanna go home.”

Baby Brother couldn’t call it. Sari could be real evil when she was drinking, but right now she was fuckin’ with his head.

“Look. You need to come down off that crazy shit. I ain’t going home hungry, so if you wanna sit up in here and wait, cool.”

He slammed the car door and strode angrily toward the crowd, trying to determine which of these niggahs was on line, and who was just fuckin’ loitering. He was moving through the bodies when he heard the noise.

“What the fuck?” he said, whirling around.

Sari was sitting in the driver’s seat, leaning on the horn. Blinged-out birds in the crowd stuck their fingers in their ears, then started cuttin’ up, talking shit.

“Get the fuck off that horn, bitch! Quit making all that fuckin’ noise!”

Baby Brother strode back over to the whip and snatched the door open. “Yo what the fuck is you doing, Sari?”

She kept on beeping.

“Sari! Sari! SARI!”

She came up off the horn and looked at him. “I told you to take me home, Z. Now take me the fuck home.”