“How the fuck they gone plant this shit on me Rihanna?” I said to my lawyer. This suitcase that magically appeared in my house last night was bullshit. I don’t even fuck with weed period I just smoke the shit, and the gun was an old rusty Glock. I wouldn’t dare use that bullshit. I carried a twin set of Chrome 40 calibers. Those were my babies aine shoot or touch shit else. I worked skillfully with a 40 Cal and a 40 Cal only. I had a license to carry them and all. Thanks to my cousin Rodney who works down at the gun shop.
Rihanna Arnold has been my lawyer ever since I jumped off the porch. I went to Rihanna Arnold back in the days when I got a petty fucking weed charge at 16 years old. I showed up in her office with the retainer fee plus more. I wanted that shit throwed out and off my record. She cleared that shit up within in seconds. Ever since that day I knew I was rocking with her up at J & A Law firm.
“Look I don’t know what the fuck going on but I’ll be sure to get you out of this shit. I know how you rock and that is definitely not your shit.” She said honestly. I told my lawyer the fucking truth. She aint want to hear shit else. Rihanna was straight up 1 hundred. She couldn’t help that she was Blunt and rude as hell to them dirty ass cops.
“I know man! What we gone do?” I was anticipating her answer. She had all the fucking answers to my questions. Rhi had better had an answer to this one.
Rihanna Hesitated for a little and then began to speak.
“Look”… The fat detective from earlier Walked into the Interrogation room and smacked the bagged and Tagged Glock 40 onto the metal table, interrupting Rihanna “Looks like there is 2 murders on this here Glock buddy.”
“I don’t care if it was a Hunnid murders on it. It aint mine you fat bitch and you know that!” I gritted and balled up my fist. Dying to body this faggot ass pig. He been on my ass since I bodied that nigga for that pimp. He couldn’t pin anything on me then and he can’t pin shit on me now.
He just laughed and said, “You know if you give up Yo Boy Kyle this could all go away!” Rihanna leaned over and whispered, “Don’t say nothing else!”
Kyle? What the fuck does my brother have to do with me! I said angrily. Rihanna eyed me and I just sat there and mugged the cop.
“Look Mr. Big Ass … I meant Buggash, My Client here will NOT corporate you’re the cop do your job!” My lawyer stood and looked the cop right in the eye.
Meanwhile, I was just sitting there watching her talk shit to him.
“Suit yourself. But if this doesn’t stick, I’m going to get you Samuel.” He had a defeated look on his face as he walked out of the interrogation room. We both sat in silence thinking harder than a motherfucker.
“Check this out. You’ll sit for a couple weeks but I promise you that you will be out in less than 5.” she said nervously as she waited on my response.
“Less than 5 weeks? Rihanna Nyla is due in any day now! I’m not about to miss my baby coming into the world! Nah fuck that. Try again.” I said as I stressfully rubbed my deep waves. I had no choice but to accept what she said because she was helping me out. And if I didn’t accept it how the fuck was I going to get out of a police station full of fucking pigs?
Truth was I aint commit this murder they are trying to put on me, and that weed shit was a straight up joke. It was a real shame that these pigs would stoop so low and plant some shit on me. As if we don’t have enough black men in the fucking prisons. Don’t get me wrong I have bodied a lot of niggas. I am definitely not a saint. Matter fact I done rocked so many niggas I dun lost count. How you think I got my name? I caught a body at 12 years old. An old Pimp paid me 15 hundred dollars to fuck that nigga up and then kill him. I did what I was told and I been sending niggas to there early grave ever since. That Pimp spreaded all around the A’ that lil Murk was the go to guy if they wanted any nigga or any bitch killed. I was slaying the grimiest of the grime back then. But I retired from contract killings I just sling them big boys now. Killing niggas for a living shit is for jits to me. Don’t get me wrong I’ll still blow a nigga brains out.
These young and old niggas respected me because of what I came into the game doing. They respected my hustle because I once was a part of the struggle too. I’m getting straight paper and turning that shit into clean money. Thanks to Nyla.
Nyla who is my Wife, my Forever and a day runs a Boutique and a Hair salon that pushes major ducks because me and just because of her skills and what not. She does the damn thing. But I don’t ask her to spend a damn thing because she earned that shit and that’s her money to keep in case of situations like this… the fuckery.
“Look I know when Nyla has the baby. But look I got other got to have a little of time to prove them motherfuckers planted that shit. Hell, when I get this shit figured out, I might have to Have Nyla testify for you.” she whispered.
“Fuck that shit Rhi! I don’t want her to be in this shit Period! Handle this shit.” I said. I knew I could handle a couple of weeks on lock that shit was nothing. I was worried about Nyla and my seed. She should be straight until I get out being that I left a hell of a lot of Money for her to sit pretty on. I mean I did just do a major Re-up but fuck it she had a lot to live on and I know Prince a Handle that weight the way it needs to be handled. But my fucking wifey was about to deliver my baby in less than an month and I don’t want to be locked down in the white man’s prison when she push my lil man or baby girl out! That’s for damn sure.
“Aight man, handle your business Rhi. Just make sure I be out when my baby is born into this world.” I said as I ended the conversation. I aint want to be too hard on her but so what tough fucking love.
