Rosewood

Prologue: Jan. 7. 2007

My govt. name Deron Johnson, but nobody call me that shit. My name Duecy, I'm 16 years old. I'm from a city right outside of Los Angeles, called Rosewood. It's full of killers, drug dealers, anything bad we got that. Me? I'm just a skinny brownskin nigga with dreads, and I play basketball. I ain't really no gangsta or nun like that, but my big brother, Mac, only 19 and niggas 'round my way treat him like a OG. I mean he put in the work so he deserve it. He lightskin with a fade, but you could tell he rough when you see him, and it wasn't just because of his tats. He passed up my dad rep already, and trust me that's saying something. In my city you get rep from either; getting money, fucking bitches, or killing niggas. That's the three standards every gangsta gotta attain in my city. My dad was a master of all three.

Back when I was like 6, I remember playing with toys in my room while my Mom, Dad, and my two brothers was in the living room. All I heard was a loud boom, when some niggas busted in the door. I looked out my bedroom door and seen some masked up niggas holding guns at my Dad's head. My mom ran all the way to my room holding my baby brother in her arms, but Mac wasn't behind her. We hid behind the bed. I heard 4 gunshots go off and the door slammed, I didn't move.

I was in shock.

"Dad!" my brother Mac cried. 

A huge load lifted off my soul when I heard my brother was alive. Don't get me wrong, losing my dad hurt like hell, but having my brother alive felt like a blessing.

Back to present day, we just living through it. 

My mom working a 9 to 5. My big brother faithfully living by the three standards in the streets. My little bro bad as hell, his name Tariq.

Rosewood really fucked up because it don't have history like Chicago or Los Angeles. Close to no one's parents was born here, the city's population is 70% gangsters, because were on the coast, and we have large ports that hold hella cargo (drugs) on the ships. Enough drugs to supply the whole state of California.

In these past couple decades, gangsters been flocking to Rosewood, like the Gold Rush. It's like this city was made for drug dealers; large cargo ports, inexperienced police staff, and we 40 minutes from Los Angeles. This is an ideal place to live, so territory ain't easy to come by, everybody in my city willing to go to war about territory.

The odd fact that gangsters keep flocking here, is what makes Rosewood so different. Rosewood gangsters are very diverse, not just with their race, but with their gangsta methods and tactics as well.

These aren't just West Coast gangsters out here, it's gangsters from all over. Some places believe in making money and staying out the way, other places believe in kill whoever gets in your way. No matter where you from though, when you come here, the motto is get in everybody's way. The power in Rosewood has been shifting since the late 90's and that ain't finna change now. I done seen gangs get ran out the city, extorted, and killed off in a matter of months. It's no rules in these streets, just blood, you make it here you could make it anywhere.

In Rosewood, you have to think twice before hopping in the streets, niggas die so frequently out here, your feelings have to be somewhat removed. You gotta be ready to kill somebody, spend yo life in jail, or die at any moment, that's just how it go out here. If you ain't really built for this life, you could count on Rosewood to let you know. This city ain't a joke, I found that out when they killed my daddy. I ain't no bitch, but I definitely ain't got time for all that street bullshit. I steer clear and play ball, I know I'm gone make it out this hell hole one way or another.