𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙣, 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩.
This was the saying for many of those who ran with the Southside. In a story where two people reconnect over a terrible loss, they pour into each-other while mourning the loss of their beloved cousin and friend. W...
❝Young nigga with a bag, that's why them older niggas hated em. Knowin' that he ain't going, he'll crack a nigga cranium. ❞ — Play with us, Kevin Gates & Lil Durk
JEFFERY "SAINT" AMARE BROWN SEPTEMBER 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 Southside, Chicago
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The blaring bass rattled the car as Saint bopped his head to the music, his eyes focused on the automatic weapon in his lap as he cleaned it with the microfiber towel to ensure it wouldn't jam.
The car was loaded to the brim with niggas thirsty for blood, Saint picked up and wielded the weapon around as the drill music turned him up.
He was with Scoom, Vert and Q50 as they rode out through the streets in opp territory. They weren't looking for anyone specific, but they needed to send a message.
Whoever they killed tonight would be get back for Zaire, get back didn't have a time limit on it. A backwood was in rotation but Saint declined, he needed to be on point of everyone else wasn't.
Just as they rode past 59th and West they spotted a member of the rival gang, which is also who is suspected in the backdoor of Zaire, so it was up and stuck.
"Turn the music down, and spin back around the block!" Saint said, his adrenaline rushing as he couldn't wait to catch another one. He was already up 8 "hats" as he would say. It would've been 9 if the last nigga checked.
"That's that Khalif nigga, I'm tellin' you it was!" Scoom yelled, the rush of it all was definitely riling the rest of them as it did Saint. "That nigga gon' be no more after today, that's all I know." Q50 chimed in, inserting the hollow tips in his extended Peanut Butter Glock.
The car slowly crept up the same block as the men pulled down their ski masks, adjusting it to their liking. The car was silent, all that could be heard were rushing heartbeats.
The driver stopped the car as the men hopped out quickly, Saint being the first one to blow his gun. The man started to run before he'd even heard the first shot but that wasn't a problem, Saint hawked him down as the others chased behind him.
He hit the cut, just as the group hit it with him. The constant gunfire rang in Saints ears as his heart beat out his chest from the adrenaline. The group chased the man before he hit a dead end, which is exactly what Saint wanted. He wanted to stand over him and look him in his eyes.
He put feet to ground as he discharged his gun at the man's back multiple times, making him fall to the concrete on impact. "I told you bitch!" Saint said, walking up on the limp body as the man tried to scoot away but failed.
