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Damontrez drove the truck down the interstate as 2pac's Hail Mary pumped out of the factory speakers. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw Damario and Damasio, both dressed in all black hoodies and black Timbs, wearing black ski masks.
"Damn!" Damario yelled as he forcefully snatched off his black ski mask. He was totally enraged that he didn't get a chance to kill Jarod tonight.
"We gotta' murder 'dat nigga ASAP! I don't like 'dat mutha'fucka walkin around still breathin' 'n shit,"
"He must be ducked off in one of his strip joints," Damasio added, noticeably discouraged also.
Damontrez got off on the highway and pulled into an empty parking lot, where Damario's H2 Hummer was waiting.
"We'll get'em next time," He said confidently, throwing the truck in park.
With black leather gloves on his hands, August remained silent as he wiped his pistol down. He wasn't proud of the shit he did, but he played the cards that he was dealt. Life was like a game of poker, and sometimes, you got to play the only chips you got.
Damario peeled off his hoodie and jumped into his car, "If there is a next time. Because of what we just did, Jarod's crew is gonna' be extra tight. We may never get 'dat close to him again. Fuck!"
August, Damontrez, and Damasio jumped in with him, and they pulled off on their way back home. They had just sent a clear message. The Bowe's wasn't about to lie down.
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🎶When I die, fuck it, I wanna' go to hell. Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell. It don't make sense, goin' to heaven with the goodie-goodies. Dressed in white, I like black Timbs and black hoodies...🎶
