Before The A$AP MOB, I was Rakim Mayers.
The fighter. The one who will do anything to survive the war of Harlem. My convulse or shiver hands picked up the gun off the ground. My father always told me only a man can handle a gun. I aim it perfectly. I squinted one of my eyes like my father. My throat was tight and I could feel waterworks form in my eyes. I couldn't cry, one thing my father taught me is to never cry. "Just do it." My older brother yelled at me. My heart was drubbing. It felt as though it was speaking to me. "Rakim!" My older brother, Ricky yelled at me. I pulled the trigger. At that moment I was a man, but not for long when I seen blood covering the grass. Tears slid down my cheeks. "Yo, is he dead?" I asked Ricky, scared to found out the answer.
"Calm the fuck down and stop crying like a little bitch. This what grown men do. You a man now. Yes, the son of bitch dead. He tried to kill me you did the right thing. You only 12 and you aimed perfectly, bruh." Ricky said with a smile, dapping me up. I wiped my tears, feeling knots in my stomach. "The opps comin" Ricky told me as we both began running. I look over my shoulders seeing 3 different police cars. The knots in my stomach became tigher. The noise of the police car pierced my ears. I look over to my brother and he beacon me to turn the next corner. I speed and lost my brother in the other direction of town. I lost them. I lost the opps. I made it home and ran straight to the bathroom throwing up everything I ate before I shot Ricky's friend.
"How was it?" My father asked, walking into the bathroom.
"How was what?" I questioned him as I picked up my head from the toilet. I stood in front of the sink, viewing my pops through the mirror.
"I could see it from your eyes, hands, and the tone of your voice. Did you aim good like I taught you?" My pops asked me. Ricky butted in the conversation and answered for me. "Pops, this nigga aim was prefect." Ricky bragged.
"Yes, I did - I did pretty good." I answered still shook from my first murder.
"What I said about that crying shit? Toughin the fuck up. You a man now." My pops reassured me.
"You right, pops. I ain't gone be no little bitch." I said while brushing my teeth.
"I'm proud of you." My father said, boosting me up to become better.
I always looked up to my father and brother. My brother was known as Pretty Ricky and he always had shawties in his room. Most shawties like the lightskinned niggas, they never gave me play. My brother is known for spitting rhymes. He is a legend rapper in my hood. He always have French Braids. He is fresh and he have every nigga hating. I threw my basketball in the air attending to catch, but I heard things being knocked to floor. The basketball landed on my face. I threw the ball elsewhere. I figured it was my brother getting play, but I heard momma screaming. I quietly sneak out my room and hid behind the couch. I seen the feds or policeman's taking hold of my father. I thought pops had his traphouse down pack? Maybe a snake snitch? Questions piled in my head.
"Let go of my fucking husband. Where's the fucking search warrant?!" My ma yelled, holding onto my younging sister, Erica.
"Ma'am, please remain slient or otherwise." One of the officers said as they hand-cuffed my pops.
"You can't fucking touch me and you have no right barging into my house like you have a damn search warrant." My ma spat coming closer to the officer's face. The officer pulled out his tazor and tazzed my ma. My eyes popped out and I wanted to rush this nigga, but my eyes was set on the gun on his waist. Erica was crying and yelling. I guess Ricky wasn't home. I was humble and calm. My father seen me behind the couch as they pulled him off the ground. He whispered "I Love You" to me and I whispered it back. When the feds left with my father, I ran over to my ma who was shiver on the floor.
"Is mommy going to be straight?" Erica asked me.
"Yes." I said in a not sure way.
"Why is she shaking, b?" She asked.
"How the fuck should I know?" I answered with a question.
"Mommy, please get up and tell me daddy is coming back. Please tell me this is the same game daddy was playing when the popo took him before." Erica whined with tears sprinting out her eyes. My ma returned herself within minutes and told me to go to bed. Erica slept with momma cause she's mommy's little girl. I always hated when my mom use to hit me with that "It's just a game daddy and the police play." Fuck that. They got my dad.
