𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍.

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘.

⌖ MY HUSBAND, MY HUSBAND, MY HUSBAND | O6O. ‹ ⚜ ›
❝ this game don't breathe unless i give it lungs. pockets don't get full unless i say so. ❞

EXTENDED...

It was the first time in a long while that anyone besides Jasiah had set foot inside the warehouse. For a year plus, the building sat in silence, the air filling with dust & the faint scent of old concrete & stale smoke. The lights had been cut for over a year, leaving the cavernous space covered in shadows, where the smallest sound echoed like a ghost haunting the steel skeleton of the building. But now the lights were on & business was about to start moving again.

With most men, if you disappeared too long like that, you became just as much as a ghost as your empire did. The game moved on without you like you were never even there. They forget your name, the respect fades, the legend cracks, & some hungry ass nigga steps in to take your place. That's how it went. You fall back, you fall off. Your power died, & the streets stop talking about you.

But no matter how long Jasiah had been gone, he was still the who's who. His name still held the same weight like it had been carved into stone. You say "Syncere" out loud, & niggas would hold their breath just to hear what came next. The room would get quiet, the energy would shift, & everyone would feel it, like the air got heavier just off the strength of his name.

He'd been gone for over a year, but it didn't matter. The respect? It never left. The fear? Still there, lurking in the eyes of the ones who knew better. That power? It stayed, like a stain you couldn't wash out no matter how hard you scrubbed. From country to country, "Syncere" was attached to a man so cutthroat, so ruthless, & so influential. That was the real power he held—being the thread that stitched it all together. A king in a concrete jungle who had reach, whose name made the phones ring from L.A. to Lagos, Nigeria.

You didn't replace a nigga like him, you waited for him. You wait for him to come back & clean up whatever bullshit, whatever disorder, whatever noise filled the streets in his absence because everybody knew the game didn't flow right until he came back.

That's the type of shit that had niggas wishing they could be him & had bitches wringing panties out when he walked by. You either wanted to be him, or you wanted him to be in you. That was the line, no in between. & even if you did hate him, deep down? That wasn't hate. That was jealousy... & jealousy was just a blend of envy & admiration.

Everybody knew when he got locked up, the whole game froze like somebody pulled the plug on them. The streets paused, especially the cartels in other countries. Jasiah was the bloodline that kept it alive, made himself so much larger than the program that he was the one who made it all link. His connects, his products, his growing labs & farms in countries where he never had to breathe down their necks 24/7 to make sure he had what he wanted. Multi-million dollar investments.