Get It in Slugs
ISBN: 9798363962905
$20.00
9798363962905
200 sat inside a dated Acura with his roguish squad, all wearing serious faces. Hours had passed. In fact, this was the third night in a row that they camped out a few houses down in this Oak Cliff neighborhood waiting for their po- tential victim to arrive. "We should probably roll, cuz," the goon in the backseat suggested, conscious of his surroundings and growing a little antsy. But 200 squinted through the murky clouds at a pair of headlights coming down the streets. "Hold on," 200 said, peeping the car's silhouette. "This might be him." Or so he hoped. The Highland Hills hardhead had been on a mission over the past year plus, preying on local dopeboyz and racking up a serious body count in the process. His brazen action put the streets on notice, and it was all in hopes of buying a home for his mom. At least that's what he claimed. He wanted her to raise his promising young brother in a better neighborhood. Though most of the money that crossed his hands were squandered on extravagant gifts, expensive cars, clothes-mostly that high dolla shit, vacations, strip clubs and supporting his gambling habit. But this was different. This was a stash house that belonged to an underground legend, and after doing his due diligence he learned that there was over a million dollars cash inside it. Something that would surely put him over the hump. The type of trap that this revered jackboy had to have. Seeing 200 sit in a mask atop his unkempt taper, the nerves in the car became palpable. You might as well have said the police were on the block "So, is that him?" The goon on the passenger side asked as he began to study the car too. 200 put a choppa on his lap the size of a small pole. He didn't readily answer. He continued to squint his beady eyes at the approaching car until it hit the lights and pulled to the curb slightly past the house. The occupant hopped out, but it was a female not the dude they'd been casing the home for. "Nah, it ain't him," he said in a whisper of defeat. They were about to tuck their guns and call it a night until another car pulled up directly behind the first. He watched as dude put his feet on the damp pavement then looked around suspiciously before proceeding to the house. He could tell that cocky strut from a mile away. "Yo, that's that bitch ass nigga Buck right there. Mount up." 200 said. Pistols began to click and clack inside the car. While all the car's dark-dressed occupants looked to 200 as if he was their general. And when he gave his command, they masked up and jumped out. "C'mon, it's go time....."