The Ladder To Becoming A King! (URBAN)

Chapter 4: Money & Drugs

When I arrived at this house it was pretty decent. Mannnn what am I talkin' about? This fucking house was amazing! It was painted white on the outside and it had a 3 car garage. On the inside it had an upstairs, 4 bathrooms, a queens kitchen and a basement full of nothing, but concrete walls and floor and a section with tables as if they had meeting down there.

While standing in the front door way, just admiring my new home. My Foster dad call up to his other son "Bank come down here and show your new brother his room" he said. Bank came down stairs G'd up like a motherfucka. "Yo little guy what's your name?" He said to me. "King" I said back. "Naw your name Cash, you not no king yet" he said. "King is my name" I said with an attitude. "Yeah whatever little nigga, come with me" he said.

I followed behind him going upstairs. Then my foster dad yelled up the stairs "Bank take little baby down to the store and hook him up." "Alright dad" Bank said. I was so hyped I never got brand new clothes before, I only got hand me downs. When I got settled in we went straight to the store and back home.

When I put my clothes away, my foster dad called me downstairs. When I approached him he said "go downstairs to the basement with Bank." We went downstairs and on the table was a all black 9mm fully load. When Bank picked it up and cocked it back, he turned towards me and pointed it right at my head.

My heart started racing through my chest. He looked me dead in the eye and said "if you think I won't kill you think twice." Then he told me to hold the gun with a tight grip.

The gun was heavy as hell and Bank told me that I was a thug in training. me being so young I didn't know what he meant by that, but I knew it had to be serious.

That whole night I practiced holding the gun. I was to take the clip out, put it back in, cock it and make it stay in my pants. Little did I know I was in for hell the next day.

In the morning Bank woke me up and told me to get my ass down stairs. I jumped out of bed, got dressed then raced downstairs. I sat at the table waiting for breakfast, but there was none. I think I was to late or something cause the kitchen was clean. Bank just looked at me with a smurk on his face. "What are you doing?" He said. "I thought there would be breakfast." I said. " Nigga eat time is anytime before 11:00am, it is now 11:10, we gotta go." He said. " Where we going?" I asked. "Little baby stop asking me questions, fuck your going to drive me crazy" he said annoyed. I just sat there quietly.  "Do you have your gun?" He asked me. "Yeah its in my pants" I said. "Okay, lets go then" he said.

We rushed out the door and walked down to some corner. Around us was a fenced alley and some burger joint around the way. Shit was dead as fuck and I was trying to put together why we was there in the first place. While we was standing there Bank suddenly turn around wit 30 baggies of green leaf looking thing inside and the other baggies had some white shit in it. "Whats this?" I asked. "Sale this shit, the weed is 10 bucks and the coke sale that for 80 bucks a bag and remember to be home by 9pm with the money or thats your ass" he said. I didn't say anything to him at all, I just took the bags and stood where he wanted me to stand. When I stepped up to the corner, there was people coming toward me. I was scared as fuck and I really didn't know what to say to them. "You got that white?" this man asked. I just stood there. "Well do you?" He asked. "Yeah how many?" I asked him. "Give me two" he said. I looked at him and said "money first."

The man handed me 160 bucks and I slid him two coke bags. When he walked away I said there and wondered. How can a man so dirty and homeless looking have 160 to spend on a bags of coke? The thing was he wasn't the only one. There was a lot of women and men coming to me, asking me for weed and coke. I sold out before 9pm then I got really hungry since I didn't each shit all day. I remembered that burger joint was just around the way, so I went there. I asked for a Dollar burger, I ate it and got home at 8:55pm.

When I got into the house my foster dad asked me "Where's my money?" I handed it to him quickly and just watched him count it. "Nigga your short" he said. " I spent a dollar at the burger joint, I was hungry" I said. He smurked and giggled, then he got mad as fuck. "I don't give a fuck about you being hungry, you spent my fucking money and now you gon' pay for that shit, meet me downstairs." he said. I ran downstairs and stood there waiting for him. When he finally came down he punched me in my jaw. I fell to the ground and felt him kicking the shit out of me. He beat my ass until I passed out from the pain.

When I woke up I was in my bed swollen up like a motherfucka. I was so sore I couldn't move. Then my foster dad came in my room and sat in the chair next to my bed and told me to sit up. I struggled sitting up in that bed, but I made it. " You are now apart of a gang, that money you make out there is mine, you work for me. This gang you are now in, you are in for life there is no escape, so don't think for a second we don't know where you are." he said. I just sat there and he got up and left.

When I turned 7 I had the game on lock. I knew how to cook and chop, I knew the difference between a crack head and a cop and I didn't hold drugs on my person anymore. Yeah I slipped up a lot when I was 6 years old, but now slip ain't in my vocabulary. Here I was on the block with banks jealous ass just waiting for traffic. He was talking shit the whole time, he was getting on my last nerve. "Nigga go to another block or something, shit you killing me" I said.  " Nigga I'll fuck your little ass up!" He said. "Nigga just go somewhere else I got this" I said.

He looked at me and said "I got you." I watched him as he left, while he was walking down the street it was a cop hittin' the corner. He flagged down the cop and went up to the window. Then he started pointing at me. All of a sudden the cops pulled up on me and got out the car. "Boy are you out here selling drugs and do you have a weapon on you?" One cop said. I told him "No" of course. Then he searched me. He grabbed my gun and told me to get on the ground while drawing his. I got down and Bank ran.

My foster dad picked me up from the police department or what everbody calls JDC. When we got in the car my foster dad told me I was fucking up his money and that I was going to pay for that. I paid for that alright, he beat my ass to the bone. While I was getting my ass beat Bank walked his happy go lucky ass to down in that basement and watched me he the beaten that was ment for him. I laid there and I didn't drop no tear. I was built to not cry about shit or my beaten will be worse. I never told on Bank because snitchin' could get me kilt, but he snitched on me. I should of told on his ass, but my foster dad said Loyalty, Power and Respect was everything and I'm one loyal ass nigga.

When I turned 8 years old I was shot in my back by a nigga that was trying to rob me. I should of died, but I made it of course. I was sitting in that hospital in pain like a bitch. When I finally recovered my foster dad picked me up from the hospital. He wasn't to happy to see me and of course he fed me that same line. You that "your fucking up my money, your going to pay" line he always says. I mean damn I just got out the hospital I'm still hurt, but he still beat my ass when I got home.

When I started getting better he said I needed to pack up cause I had to go. I packed my shit and he took me to an orphanage, it was a different one this time. Before I got out the car he said "We still watching you, we just gon' wait for you to grow up a little more, now get out." I got out and he drove away. I went up to the orphanage and knocked on the door...