Crumbs to Bricks III

Summer 1995....Sarasota, FL....

I had gotten suspended from school(yeah, go figure), so a nigga didn't know what the fuck he was gon' do....Shiiid, I didn't have no other alternative but to take my ass home! Although I had options, I wasn't gon' stay in backwards ass Charleston, SC, so I loaded up my shit and headed to Panama City, FL...Mom and Pop's had finally gotten a divorce (Thank GOD!), so I headed home to mama; Shit wasn't right, y'all; Mom had left a high payin' job in Sarasota to move back to her home town of Panama City...I told y'all about Panama City in Crumbs to Bricks I; Shit hadn't changed 10 years later - it was still a tourist town, and mu'fuckas wasn't payin' shit; so Mom's was struggling to make ends meet; Fortunately, my grandfather still owned some land up there, so Mom's had foresight prior to making the move and bought a home and put it on her land!!! Cain't too many niggas say they own their house and the land it sits on; But my grandfather was a man's man, and he looked out for his young'uns.......At any rate, here I am, freshly suspended from school, no job, no money, but got hella dreams!!! That shit don't add up....some'n had to give! I tried my hand at a few local jobs...from Front Desk Clerk at a major hotel chain, to doing landscaping on the weekends....Wasn't enough! A nigga needed loot! Big Loot..Plus, I had a son by now, and a baby mama who didn't give a fuck what my employment status was; Jr. needed pampers! I had gotten suspended in the middle of the semester, around March; Wasn't shit goin on in Panama City, so me and C.M. (my brother) went down to Sarasota for the Easter Parade; My folks in Sarasota know what that be like! So while down there, I was amazed...Sarasota was still doin it big! The whole while down there, all kinds of shit was runnin thru my head...So one day when we got back to Panama City I approached Ma and was like, what y'all gon do with the house down in Sarasota? Daddy live in Leesburg, and ain't nobody stayin there...can I move in it? She was like, Talk to ya Daddy...I ain't like that...but hell, I wanted to be closer to my son and my baby mama, so I called...Shit went better than I thought. He didn't have a problem with it; He got all the utilities cut on, and was still payin the note on it, so all I had to do was maintain...only problem was, I didn't have a car, so maintainin' was gon' be a struggle......little did I know......

Me and C.M. both packed our shit and dipped! Daddy even came to Panama City to pick us up....Hell, he didn't mind, all he needed was an excuse to see my Mama again; and what better excuse than, "my sons need me!" Dude had gotten remarried by then, but was still up to his bullshit ways...Didn't matter to me, I was on my way to Sarasota...In my mind I'm thinkin, yeah, me and C.M. bout to make our mark on this bitch! Again, little did I know....

When we finally got to Sarasota, in late May 1995...I was ready to hit the ground runnin'.....Me and C.M.! The Dynamic Duo! Only thing was, tho, C.M. had gotten pussy whipped by some chic in Panama City before we left. I'm talkin bout on the phone cakin' all day and night! Nigga was like a sick puppy...wake up, he callin this broad; go to bed, he talkin to this broad....I'm like, damn dude, let's get our shit together and get some of this money! This is the shit we talked about as shorty's! My folks in Sarasota know what I'm talkin bout; Seein' niggas like John-John, Brent, Malcolm, Darrell, etc, doin their thang! Hell, ain't this why you always wanted an '86 Buick Regal!!!! Now that we're here, you nuttin up! Now mind you, at the time, we were both "new" to the game....But I didn't give a fuck, I was game for anything. Risk be damned! When we got to Sarasota we both had a lil over $100 apiece.....didn't matter, we didn't have no bills....so that was money til we got on our feet. Only thing was, neither of us had a car, and we had to eat....so after about two weeks of livin' "square" I was like enough of this shit, I didn't come down here to struggle....I had $40 left......$40 to my name...couldn't call Mama, cause she was strugglin herself, and Daddy was already payin our bills, so I'm like, fuck it; it's time! C.M. wasn't hearin' that shit....he didn't want no parts of the hustlin' game.....My baby mama had a car, and she would come from Bradenton damn near everyday with my son, and hang out at the house....We had a 3 bedroom house on Pershing Avenue; So C.M. had his room, I had mine, and we had a spare.....She would let him use her car to go job hunting....me, fuck a job! I wasn't even looking. But if C.M. wanted a job, so be it.....I took my last $40 and approached my neighbor, "D" (ain't gon use real names, ain't trynna get nobody indicted!) who was STRONG in the game....we had looked up to this cat as shorty's, and he was still doin his thang.....by this time this nigga had two cadillacs; a black one, and a white one (y'all remember!) with "knock" in both of 'em!!! So I was like, look D, I ain't got but $40, help a nigga out....he looked at me with shock on his face....What???? Tony McKay???? College Boy??? Trynna get in the dope game??? Boy you ain't ready for this...I was like, maybe not, but I gotta do some'n....So after the shock wore off, he said, ok....But since you don't know what you doin, sit back and watch how the game work....Now, my folks in Sarasota know how Pershing Ave. got down...it wasn't nicknamed "HollyWood Blvd" for nothin.....it was like a drive-thru for the dope game! Cars comin thru back to back....all day and night...When we moved on that street on my 7th birthday, September 10, 1978, it was nothing like that...it was a nice middle class black neighborhood....but in 1995, shit was different.....this was the "hood!" All I could do as a shorty was sit back and look out the window and watch them niggas get paid! Not no 'mo!!!! As I told "D" that day, look cuz, I ain't no "git" no more....I'm trynna get it! "D" sold me 4 "parlays".....which was 4 rocks for $10 apiece; but he told me to "pop 'em in half" and then sell those for $10...which, in essence, would double my money; sounded easy enough......now, all I had to do was just do it.....I was scared as hell...had always seen niggas do it, and heard about niggas doin' it, but now, I actually had to do it! I was petrified! Had done spent all my lil money, so I had to do some'n! After about an hour or so of just watchin niggas get money, "D" said, next car on Shorty McKay! on Pershing Ave. that meant the next car that came thru was my sale! "D" had rank on our street; He was a vet in the game so his word carried weight; plus, his uncle Charlie lived right across the street, and his grandmother lived right next door to me. In fact, our street was so hot, niggas from other streets came to "post up" just so they could get in on the money that came thru. Pershing Ave was an organization! Not just anybody could come sell dope on our street. I lived there, so I had "de facto" priviledges; meaning I had a right to be out there....even if just hangin out....but now, I was in the game! So when the next car came thru, which was probably about 10-15 minutes later (yeah, the money came like that!!!!) I was scared to death! Other cats were just lookin at me, like, nigga that's you, go get it! So I walked up to the car and the folks in the car was like, I need 50.....I'm dumbfounded cause I was clueless.....I bought $40 worth, and "popped 'em" like "D" said; so I had 8 rocks for $10 apiece which was $80 worth of dope....I was about to hand 'em 5 rocks (hell, I thought they sold for $10 apiece, so naturally I'mma give 'em 5) but, I looked over at "D" like a lost child....he came to my rescue...."what y'all need?" a 50 piece said the occupants..."D" asked me, what you got? I showed him my dope...like magic, he took 3 rocks, "popped" one (that had already been "popped" initially, when I bought 'em from him), and handed 'em to them....so they got 4 rocks for $50 (which, to a "baser" was a lick!)....what I would have calculated as only $30, "D" turned into 50....after they pulled off, "D" pulled me to the side and said, "look, this the dope game, lil cuz; ain't shit fair about it! you don't never give a smoker what you paid! They lookin at quantity! To them, they got a good deal...you and I know you only gave 'em $30 worth of dope! But they don't know that! Now look, you still got 5 rocks left, and done made ya money back!" I looked in my hand........damn....he was right! Needless to say, I was hooked! $50 on my first sale!!!! I stayed outside all night that night...C.M. was inside somewhere on the phone....Mind you, I didn't have to go anywhere but right outside the front door! We lived in the heart of Pershing Ave., in the middle of ALL the action; I literally only had to go outside and post up, and the money came to me. Shit was gravy! I'd sell out, go buy 5 more rocks from "D." I think I made something like $500 that first night; Of course I had to "work" my way into the rotation, tho. But I was a native, so it wasn't hard to get in where I fit in - and although I was new to the game, I wasn't new to Pershing Ave.....hell, I grew up there, so I had just as much, if not more, right to be out there than them other niggas. At first it was cool, cause it was like a novelty, college boy out here sellin dope....but then them niggas started gettin beef, cause I started demanded a spot...I was like, nigga I live here!!! You don't even live on this street and trynna get an attitude!!! I wasn't a chump by any means....shiiiid, niggas knew I wrestled and boxed in school, so tryin me wasn't an issue. Plus, C.M. wasn't too far away. He still hadn't found a job, but he was ok cause I was makin money for both of us....Shit was good....Yet again........little did I know.

After about 2 weeks of straight grindin', C.M. came in my room early one Sunday morning (I remember it just like it was yesterday!) and said he was going back to Panama City...I was like, What??? Dawg, we doin aiiight, why you wanna go back? He said cause he didn't like what I was doing, and I was bound to get caught, and he didn't want no part of it (hindsight is a mu'fucka!!!!)....well, I was ballin, and I wasn't going back to Panama City! So I asked him, "when you plan on leavin?" Cause I was gon' try to talk him out of it, but he said, "Uncle Frank on his way over right now to take me to the bus station!" Now???? He said, yep, I just need a ticket.....damn!!!! So I told him where I kept my stash and told him to take what he needed....I had like 2 grand put up, and he only took $100, y'all!!!.....just enough to get a bus ticket back to Panama City...I was shook; I just knew we were about to blow up..I was on some Nino Brown, New Jack City type shit, and my brother wasn't in it with me........sure enough, bout 20 minutes later, My uncle Frank came over and picked him up and took him to the bus station....and he never said a "mumbling word" about it....To this day, Uncle Frank still don't know why he left....

So I'm by myself.....hustlin full time...livin, actin, and bein a true dope boy.....and I loved it! I adopted the hustler's creed, you gotta "get up to get it, or stay up to catch it." Fuck a job....hustlin was my job! Everyday I was walkin round with at least a grand in my pocket, and you couldn't tell me shit! That's right, walkin around - I still didn't have a car, and didn't want one either; My baby mama had a car, plus "D" had 2, and would let me use one of his on occasion; Or, I'd rent one. I did, however, buy a bicycle...back in the day that was a hustler's main tool...a bike...as it was told to me, "a car can't pull up in the "cut" without being noticed, but a bike can!" So that's what I got....paid some'n like $20 for a $200 bike....well, I didn't pay for shit, I traded dope for it; In fact, I outfitted my house with dope...basers would come thru with all kinds of shit, and I simply traded for it....life was good! I had gotten to the point where I was buyin' almost $500 worth of dope from "D" per day....but, in only 50 increments...."D" finally said, "nigga quit crabbin!" as long as you got dope, you got money! And you ain't gon nickle and dime me to death; spend some real money! I had no clue what he was talkin about..."spend some real money???" He took me to the "Parlay Man." Who happened to live at the end of the street (Pershing Ave. had it all!)...."Kenny Man"....."Kenny Man" had the parlays! No more $50, "Kenny Man" was only sellin "50 packs," which was $500 worth of dope. But, you could make AT LEAST $1000 per pack...at least! That was it....I could sell my shit, and re-up without leaving the block....I was doin it! Didn't take too long before word spread...."lil Tony McKay sellin' big dope over on Pershing"......I didn't give a fuck, that only meant more customers! Plus, I would occasionally "rank" the game; which meant selling "working" dope to smokers....that's a no-no in the hustlin world! smokers don't get "work." In square terms, that's essentially like cutting out the middle man....I was doin' that shit....

As the summer wore on, I was stackin my paper...still on a bike, and still sellin dope....One day I was at the store, and I was approached by an old football coach..."Coach Vic"...he was like, "Shorty McKay, what's this I hear 'bout you sellin dope?" I was stunned....damn, had word really traveled like that? I don't know what kinda lie I came up with, but I told one....but it was after that encounter that I said I was gon' go ahead and get a job....shit, I had enough bread put up; so before the heat came, I'd call it quits.....and I did....I got a job thru a temp service working at some boat warehouse in Bradenton.....

Man, I did that shit for two weeks! I had gotten addicted to the fast money...I said to myself, shiiid, I'm losing money by going to work; fuck this! And didn't go back! Jumped right back into the game head first...hell, I had built up a nice clientele, and I hated tellin 'em I was outta the game...fuck that, I'm all in! Plus, with C.M. gone I now had 2 extra bedrooms....sometimes "D" would let me hold his car and beeper in exchange for one of my rooms when he didn't wanna go home....And "D" had real customers!!! 2 and 300 licks at a time......One day he said, "you can have "Tazz"...I'm tired of fuckin with him...his money good, he just want too much credit." If you know anything about hustlin, then you know you can't give everybody credit! But "Tazz" was different....Tazz owned his own business! That was the lick!!! Tazz spent a grand per week by his damn self....Hell, that was all I needed; one good customer...and sometimes, I'd even go to work with him, and "feed" him throughout the day!!! Shit was gravy...I even took my lil cousin, "Snap," to work with us occasionally, so he could earn some extra loot...Still wasn't enough....

I wanted it all! One Friday afternoon I overheard "Big Foot" Charley and one of his henchmen talkin 'bout a trip to miami.....cause for some reason a "drought" had hit...and dope was scarce...so they wanted to go to the source...Shiid, "Big Foot" was "D's" uncle, so I was just as close to him as I was to "D," so he too looked out for me on the street; So when I asked could I ride to Miami they laughed it off, but eventually said ok.......they didn't know what I had stacked.....while they bought a few ounces, I copped a half key!!! Yep, 18 ounces, straight from the source, damn near no cut....Needless to say, it was on and poppin! Only thing was, I didn't know how to "cook." So again, "D" took me under his wing and showed me how to cook dope...He showed me every which way possible to get it to "come back!" Even in a microwave! I didn't waste, nor lose, no dope! And I was still selling dimes and nicks! Half a bird, and sellin dimes and nicks!!!! Do the math! But I got away from that real quick, when the streets got word of it.....soon, I was the "parlay man!"

And it all started with $40! Shit couldn't have been better.......or so I thought.....



Stay tuned......

Friend or Foe

If you're not for me, then you're against me....simply put! How many of y'all have people in your life who claim to have love for you, but deep down, they despise you? No, they don't suffer from the crab syndrome, because with crabs, you know they straight up don't like you. But the folk(s) I'm referring to are the ones who do this shit undercover. At every turn they try to manipulate, use, and abuse you. But claim they got much love for you. I'm not going to mention any names, because they know who they are, and I want to let them know, that I know how they operate...One person in particular, I've been associated with for damn near 20 years now, and true enough, we have a history together. However, one would think, after growing up, you put away the childish bullshit, and move on, and upward in your life. But nah, some folks dwell in the past, and continue to try to "get you back" for past misdeeds. You're probably saying, well, why don't you remove that person outta your life, and let 'em be, but that's easier said than done. In situations like this, you have to "deal" with these people; albeit indirectly, nonetheless, you stil have to associate with 'em. I could very well be a grimey ass cat and go tit for tat, but where will that leave me? A miserable individual just like the person I'm referring to. Yeah, I call 'em miserable cause that's what they are. If you're constantly trying to shit on someone every opportunity you get, then you are one miserable soul! Yo ass need Jesus! And what's funny, this person be all up in the church playin' the role; but ain't got a lick of religion about themselves! I'm talkin bout they be all up in church, takin notes and e'rythang, then, soon as they step out the door, be on some slimy shit!

Shiiiid, just let me know what side you're on, then, that way I can deal with your ass accordingly. Don't tell me, "I wish you the best," but secretly hating my successes. Don't hate me cause I'm blessed; maybe if yo ass concentrated on yaself, you too could be blessed. But nah, ya punk ass cain't move past shit that happened a decade ago; Me, I can forgive ya ass and keep it movin...that's why I can continue to be blessed; even with all my misgivings...God knows I'm not a saint, but he also knows I've never shitted on anyone, either. The shit I do, is on me. Never affecting anyone directly. So you stay stuck on stupid, while I observe you from a distance, and peep yo maneuvers....And don't worry, I'm not gon' try to get no "get-back" and fuck up yo world, I'mma do like Canton Jones, and "I'mma stay saved."

Long Time......

How the hell are y'all? yes, it has been quite some time since I've sat down and wrote a post, but here I am, back in full effect......so, I know you're probably asking, what the hell have I been up to? Well, how much time do you have? Shiiiid, I feel like that chic in that song, "been around the world, i-i-i-....." y'all know the song.....it's old school...but at any rate, for all of y'all that have been asking me to pick back up on my writings, well, this is exactly what I'm doing; pickin' it back up.....y'all stay tuned, I'mma fill ya'll in on the haps of the past few years.....and finally finish the Crumbs to Bicks series......in fact, I'm shoppin for a book deal as we speak....yeah, I'm trynna get paid for my life's experiences.....remember what that lil white boy said in "Hustle and Flow," every mutha fuckin' body is entitled to a verse.....well, I intend to get paid for my verses!


Y'all stay up, and stay tuned,
Peace

2

How can I ease the pain???????

hey y'all...............listen to this, while reading if you wanna feel me right now..........vibe wit ya boi and feel my mood.......................by now, pretty much all of y'all know I lost my mother January 17th, of this year.......However, what y'all dont know, is how close me and mother was ( I think that's grammatically correct, but fuck it, who cares.....)....me and my mom were EXTREMELY close!.....No Oedipus Complex type shit, but y'all get my drift...I've given y'all a brief introduction of her, in Crumbs to Bricks I , now, y'all gon feel me........my Moms was my everything!!!! My mutha fuckin everythang, ya hear me.....I always used to tell her as a child, "ma, I don't know what I'd do if sum'in ever happened happed to you....I think I'd commit suicide if you died before me......" Nah, it ain't got that bad.....before ya even think that way....but my emotions are fuckin with me like a mu' fucka y'all........damn......this shit hurts like hell!!!!!! somedays, I'm good...like I can conquer the world.....then others.........fuck the world....and everything that's in it........my mama's gon dammitt!!!!!!! Out of every mama in the world, why mine????? why mine dammitt.....................but then I get a grip........that day, January 17th could have been any day...from 1950, til that day.......my Mom had asthma since she was two years old.....could have been prevented, had she had proper medical care, or better yet, a father, unlike any other fathers, one I've yet to mention, but will be reserved for a spot later, my grandfather!!!!!!.............Fred McKay...later to become the Rev.....My grandfather didn't give a shit about NOBODY......would just as well shoot you than talk to you....was meaner than a mu'fucka....but would kill for his chi'ren...all 13 of 'em.....but not to deviate, my Mom was in the hospital when she was two years old, sck from asthma...and she hated needles...always!!! ever since I've known her to be Mom, she's hated needles..well, when she was 2, yeah, 2!!!! she said, "papa (my grandfather), take me home, I don't wanna be stuck no more...." Papa wrapped my mom up in a blanket and hauled ass!!!!! took my mom home from the hospital and she suffered from asthma ever since............but my mom was a trooper.....a real trooper!!! this lady would go to work when she could barely breathe......would work 2, sometimes 3 jobs if need be....and she loved her boys.....me and my brother, CM....another character!!!.....my mama was the true essence of B.A.B.Y....M.A.-M.A......as depicted in Fantasia's song of the same name.....but she was a SAINT...a lot of folks can say they know sum'in taboo about their parents, whether it be knowing they've done drugs, sum'in illegal, or whatever, alotta folks got dirt on their parents....not me!!!! NADA....not a damn thang!!! I don't know of shit illegal, or immoral that my mother ever did.....she never had a ticket a day in her life....NEVER!!!!! but she was down for her boys......who wuddn't no saints......not her baby-boy!!!! hell nah!!!! not this nigga.....but she ain't never turned her back on me......NEVER.....if she didn't have it, she got it!!!!........................................................lawd, this shit killin me...............but..............I returned the favor....other than the brief time I was married, she was always the number 1 lady in my life.....upon graduating from college, I coulda went anywhere I wanted, but I went home.........home to help my mom!!! who needed me at the time......it was tough....real tough...........at first........then...Crumb to Bricks III, which I've yet to pen, occurred........it was smooth sailing after that, but that's still in production....it's comin'... in fact, alotta shit comin.....shit I've started on, but yet to publish, hell, I've got one I started on on her birthday, that hasn't been published..........................just gotta feel it...and right now I'm feelin it..........y'all, now that my mama's gone.................I'on know..............I know if you thought my shit was raw initially, it's was gone get even grittier, cause I ain't holdin shit back.......shiiiiid, my mama gone, she ain't gon read it.......she knew her child!!!!! she knew I've had some fucked up feelings about alotta shit for a long time, and I've discovered a therapy in writing, and so it is, I'll write........and tell it like it is.........ya know, death is a truth serum..............you find out how folks truly felt about the deceased........and how the deceased felt about you!!!!!!!! y'all, that was the longest trip to Panama City I've ever driven in my life!!!!!!!! How do you drive, ALONE ..knowing you goin home to bury yo mama??????........how!!!!! hard as fuck........that's how.....I don't know if my eyes were more blurred from crying, or the mary jane (I HAD TO BE FUCKED UP TO TAKE THAT DRIVE!!!!!!), I even turned on my windshield wipers a few times thinking it was the weather outside fuckin with my vision.......I was a mess.....a fucking mess, ya hear me.......every time I stopped, folks would look at me, and could see the pain in my presence.....but I made it......
As soon as I got home I immediately went to the funeral home.......one of my cuzin's (more characters yet to be mentioned, but will be later) drove me.....my mu'fuckin knees were shakin, I was hyper ventilatin, bout to fuckin pass out......a day that had awaken me in tears in sleepless nights past, had come to reality ...................damn.............my mama was dead.......I Looked like the scarecrow from "The Wiz" walkin into the funeral home.............then I saw her.............when I say she looked like she was asleep, she really did.........it was instantly, so she didn't suffer, nor was she in a state od physical decline...she looked beatiful...........and I didn't shed another tear!!!!!!!!!! not that weekend anyway...........if I did, nobody saw me......surely not at the funeral.....I was good...I failed to mention, while driving that horrid trip home, I could her voice telling me, "baby, I'm alright" .as clear as day......coulda been the weed, I'on know......nonetheless, it allowed me moments of peace....to relish the fact that she was OK.....and after seeing her, the thought was confirmed....me and moms had that connection like that......she knew when her baby was going through it.....whether I had to tell her or not...she knew her child.....my family didn't know how I would react; they knew I was her heart!!!! and she mine.......but when they saw how I handled myself, they were cool.....yet they knew I was empty inside....merely puttin my best face forward.......the position had been designated to me a long time ago......the family's backbone...and when to best display that distinctful honor, than at none other than my own mother's funeral....and if you know black funerals, you know that's when we're at our best, when we've got our biggest stage, when we see folks we ain't seen since...........since.....................that long.............and it's always that one family member who likes to be the "showman," or "showwomen" in this sense..................My mama's sisters!!!!! them McKay girls, as they're known in and around Bay County.....there were 7 of 'em at their height!!!! And they're all jazzy in their own right.........but I had to check 'em......but with a smile......I had to check a lot of things that weekend........my own self, not excluding......I had to do some diggin.....some deep down soul searchin, for that strength that my mama told me about....that strength that I would need at this time.........and I succeeded...I was able to hold my tongue, and stand tall as mom's would have wanted..............................

But that was that weekend............the clock now reads 3:02 am......right now, Friday morning, Feb 17, one month to the day that Mom died.......and I'm going back to Panama City later this morning for the first time since that weekend..........to disperse that truth serum that death brings about.......it ain't gon be pretty!! which is why I'm up so late, and compelled to jot down my thoughts, exactly as they come.....no ryhme or reason, just how the fuck I feel........real, and raw.......feelin like 'Pac, "this be the realest shit I ever [wrote]"....gon be some hurt feelins before the weekend is over........so I'm just peepin y'all beforehand........startin with that nigga known as my pops!!!!!!!! I peeped y'all to him in Crumbs to Bricks II ......but that was all I did.....gave you a peep.....my mama gon now........I'mma give it to ya raw........fuck that nigga! yeah.....I said it.......not gon go in depth on that nigga right now, but come back, you'll see.........in death there is life...new life, new beginnings, new truths.....new revelations.......and the truth ain't always pretty.......the whole weekend, this cat felt it was ALL about him.......how his family, granted 7 of his siblings and their families, came from across the country to attend, had come to honor him.......honor you?????? mu'fucka, they came because they loved my mom.....they'll tell you, they loved my mom more than they loved yo mu'fuckin ass..........you get sympathy by proxy.......when y'all were divorced for damn near 10 years prior to remarrying 3 years ago, they didn't fuck wit yo ass, but when my mom took yo ass back in, yes, BACK in, they came around........you always stood on my mama's shoulders to stick yo own mu'fuckin chest out.........yeah nigga, I know the whole story...from the rooter to the tooter!!!!......fuck you! Granted, I give you props though.......you did yo thizzle pimpin.......you had my mama head fucked since she met you....she always felt sorry for yo ass and allowed you to spit some sob story and give you new life.......she gave you a chance in 1969, but you couldn't act right, you were too busy chasin yo yella trick who didn't want shit to do wit yo ass, but you was pussy whipped cause she a baby from you...my step sister........my mama bounced on yo ass, moved back home to Panama City, had my brother in 1970, moved on, met my father and had me in 1971......his teaching career took him away......but my mama held it up.........while you were still chasin yo fuckin tail.....she bought her a crib, new ride, and took care of her boys!!!!!!! solo!!!... ....then, outta fuckin nowhere, 1974, here yo ass come...........death told me you were on yo mu'fuckin dick at the time......not a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.....couldn't find no other chics to take yo bullshit, so who do you call......my mama!!! and what does she do.......take yo ass back! Not only does she take yo ass back, but she leaves EVERYTHING!!!!!! her home and the whole nine...followin yo punk ass! And then we didn't move up....we went from first class to not even coach.....my mama had to hold yo as down!.......y'all finally bought a home on my 7th birthday...sept 10, 1977........and life was hell from then on....always had been...but I have poignant memories from that point on......that was my home....where I grew up....stolen from the paradise of family and tradition of Panama City, and forced to "live" in Sarasota........you even tried to have your daughter live with us, and force your shit on her......but she got hipped quick.....she dipped after six months, never to live with you again, didn't know the asshole that you really were......and mom always said you cared for our sister more than you cared for me and CM.....the ones who were forced to live with you....a childhod frought with fear, intimidation, and emptiness.......the preferential treatment started to become obvious when once our sister came to live with us, we started getting allowances!!! allowances? black folks? my friends thought I was trippin when I told them I was gettin allowances, that was "white folks shit'.............then, we started gettin top of the line shit, and I'm like damn, where did all this come from? we weren't ballin when it was 2 kids, now we got 3, it's like we're living a fantasy life......but you're still a fuckin prick! after our sister left, shit returned to normal....somehow, it was my mom's fault YOUR daughter didn't want to live with YOU!.....go figure...yet, she was just as close to my mom as she was to her own....but it was my mom's fault......ok...........my brother, your other biological child, graduates from high school on a thursday night, and leaves home forever, saturday!!!! Again, that's my mom's fault????? she turned both of YOUR children against you????........ok.............I'm not your biological child, but I stuck wit yo ass...........after you and mom's divorced, I came to see your ass wherever you went...attended your fuckin 2nd wedding!!!! and before that......I was the one who got your business off....I took the state exam for YOUR company's license.....your company, my license.........even kept the licenses current while in college........took 8, 9 hour drives just to attend CE classes.....for yo mu'fuckin ass.............and did I ever reap any benefits from it? 'cepting the few crumbs you threw at me while in college, hell no, I ain't get shit from YOUR business.....when your 2nd wife divorced yo ass I even came to visit you at the new chic's house.......always called, and made sure I acknowledged you on the appropriate occasions............then.........when yo ass had dug a hole with the last chic, and you damn near on yo death bed, and not a pot to piss in, after constant begging what did yo do?????? showed the fuck up back in my mama's life........AGAIN, she had moved back to paradise, bought her another home, and went on with her life....you came with the clothes on your back and a few flea market reject items.......while my mama was ballin again............and what do you do........revert back to some of your fucked up ways.........do you know how many times I had to pursuade my mama NOT to kick yo ass out???? did you know a week before she died, she said yo ass had to go by the end of January? the only reason you weren't already gone is because she didn't want to mess up her holidays??????..........surely you knew.......but the thing that got me, is what YOU told me the weekend of mom's funeral.......you know, usually you wait til you're dead to say "fuck you" but you essentially told me and CM, your own child mind you, FUCK YOU, while you're still living......they say some things are better left unsaid, and you should take 'em to the grave with you, which you should have done......but how you gone fix yo mouth to tell me and CM, on the day we're going to settle all of my mama's accounts, that.............Our house in Sarasota, now that my mama, gone, is bequethed to our sister????? Nigga what!!!!!!! You tellin me, the house that I grew up in, where I was forced to live under your tyranny and torture, where I bled, sweat, and cried, ain't me and my brothers', but YOUR daughters'.......ok..........that......you coulda kept to ya self....waited til you died for me and CM to find out that you fucked us, and let us piss on your grave then, but naw, you tellin us FUCK YOU, now, and that whatever you accomplished and accumulated in your pitiful life is slated to go to YOUR Daughter........ok.........FUCK ME, nah nigga, FUCK YOU.............PAY ME!!!!! cause from this point forward, the house you living in, and the grass it's sittin on, is MINE!!!!! and from this day on, you're a mu'fuckin tenant...........FUCK YOU.....PAY ME! and if you don't like the terms that I set forth, .....FUCK YOU..........PAY ME!.....or you can get the fuck out, and go stay wit' Yo DAUGHTER.............


that's the conversation that's gon happen sometime this weekend............bout to leave soon, but y'all know how we do when folks die..........we waitin on our check(s)!!!!!! damn right, I'm waintin on the mailman...yep, one of the insurance companies said, the check is in the mail...........fuck that.....GOD, you gotta bless me.............YOU TOOK MY MAMA!!!!!!! .....that's the closest to your love I'll ever exeperience.......so, you gotta bless me!.......


this shit hurts, ya'll....................hurts bad.

America's Worst Nightmare!

You know, it has often been said, America's Worst Nightmare is an educated black man. That is indeed true, but I wanna take it a step further, and add, in addition to being educated, America can't stand a nigga with good credit and some loot to back it up!!!!

My grandfather told me a long time ago, if you've got good credit, you don't need money; but if you've got good credit and money, you'll be a force to be reckoned with....so I "tried" to keep that philosophy...But for any of y'all that have ever stepped foot on a college campus, you know, you can get a credit card quicker than you can get your class schedule!!! Go figure! By the time I was 21 years old, I had EVERY major card out there- thanks to JCPenney, who gave me my first at 18- Amex, gas cards, Dept stores that I had no intention of shopping at, you name 'em, I had 'em (still do, for remembrance every time I get silly and wanna splurge, just look back at that, and think twice).....couldn't tell me shit, either......what, we going out?....I need a new outfit - "that'll be charge"......I need a new pair of shoes..."that'll be charge"....cash advance? "get it off the card".....silly me....... Needless to say, it took me awhile to get my credit back to A+ status (700+ FICO); and now that I've gotten it back, I wanna be smart with my finances.

As some of you all know, I'm in the home buying market. Actually, I've found one and I'm prepared to close, however, those with the power of the pen, wanna keep finding excuses as to why they keep putting off the closing.....I've already damned near signed my life away, now you want my first grandchild???? Damn!
You wanna see racism first hand, buy a house - not just any house, but one in "their" neighborhood...you'll encounter every excuse in the world to deter you from doing your thang....but I'll be damned if you gon' tell me where I can, and can not live......bitch, I got the credit score and loot to pay for this shit, not to mention, you've scrutinized all of my shit as if I were applying for a top secret military clearance or sum'in....you've talked to my elementary school playground partner, you've verified that I do have a job, you've spoken to my professional references, not pookie an nem, you've seen my bank statements,......what else you want dammit????

OHHHHHH, ok, I get it.......you don't wanna out right say it, but you don't want no niggra living in your prissy white neighborhood! You think I'mma have all my boys over, throwin bar-b-ques, wild parties and shit...you think I'mma bring your property values down? Is that it? How about........fuck you! My house, yes, mine (I'm claimin it) is the biggest, and hottest on the block! My shit sticks out like a sore thumb to be exact, and you hate the fact that a nigga is buying it!!!

Well, I got game for yo ass, not only am I buying yo shit, but I've also filed a complaint with the Equal Opportunity Commission on housing - and from what I've gathered thus far, and with the evidence I've presented, y'all ass gon' be paying me!!!! So once we finally do sign on the dotted line, expect an investigation to follow shortly thereafter; and if you trip and wanna get ig'nant.....I think they have a term for that too, it's called retaliation.....So go on, keep playing the lil fuck-fuck games, and see who'll be laughin' in the end......me!!!! Yo worst fuckin nightmare!

Called to Preach???

Ever since I was young, my family has been tellin me that I had a calling on my life....yeah, me!..I was told at an early age that I would one day be a preacher...and actually believed it...and still do...hell, I used to be the guest speaker on certain occasions, and actually had the congregation stirred!!! so, it's 'a comin...........just ain't there yet.......I'm real enough to know that.......for those that know me, know me......those that don't, really don't! make sense?.....does to me.....when I was "just gettin started," I said I would give you all a glimpse of me, and why I am, the way that I am....well, today, for some unknown reason, well, it's not unknown, cause I'm doin what I do......and when I do that, my mind wanders..........and today, I'm on a religious tip....yeah, religion....I think about religion alot, I've studied it for years.....and still studying....I "study, to show [myself] approved".......and how it applies to my life....and try to figure out why I go through the shit that I go through, and try to make meaning of it all.....the mathematician in me, says there is a logical and analytical equation to everything that goes on within the universe.....'cept maybe predicting a tsunami, as all other things - man made - are finite, they have a "beginning, and an ending"...

...in certain circles, when describing the creator, it has been said that GOD is the Grand Architect of the Universe, or Great Geometrician......picture a blank sheet of paper, with your compass point in the center...from there, you can make an infinite number of concentric circles, directly related to the center...."the earth was void...and without form"........

The "preacher" in me knows that GOD holds "all secrets, and what is given to man..." is for him....meaning, if it's out there, go get it.........ala, knowledge!!!! He said, "my people are destroyed for a lack of knowledge...because they have rejected knowledge"......"you wanna hide sum'in from a black man, put it in a book".......not this black man!.......I read everything!!! and having that "quest," as I like to say, has been, to say the least, a blessing and a curse......it exposes you to too much...it causes theological, philisophical, and yes, psychological conflicts........you're always analyzing shit....why this, why that.....for every action, there is an opposite, but equal reaction....why aren't dinosaurs mentioned in the bible? Who was Cain's wife? that kinda shit.......I know GOD "knew us before we were in our mother's womb"...and he knows I'm a man "after [His] own heart"...and..."there is nothing new under the sun"....and ..."I am the master of my fate, and the captain of my soul,"...and.....our names are already "written in the book of life".....and....."many are called, but the chosen are few"......and......some ain't gon make it.....

it took man millions of years to invent the wheel, another millions of years to invent the automobile, then only a few, relatively speaking, to build the rocket.... ......to do what, for what? Another tower of Babel?..... Do we want to see GOD? Why? ask him what? What is our purpose, what is my purpose.............

preach what????

Is man inherently evil? Because of what happened in the Garden of Eden, we are born to die......while here, we're to live a righteous life, so that through Christ, we can enter into the Kingdom of Heaven...."amongst the 24 elders"...which level? The word speaks of 7 levels......if we don't make it the first time, do we get another chance? ......are we reincarnated to live a life of "hell on earth," til we get it right.......in the midst of Satan and his demons' "dominion...which [he] shall reign for a period of time".......do I discount the theory of evolution? The survival of the fittest? Maslow's hiercharchy of needs? Man's inherent reflex to "fight or flight".....to "turn the other cheek"....or...."eye for an eye," in which, even if you don't get caught, you damn sure gon' "reap what you sow"...........can I always "love [my] neighbor as I love myself"....how can I "judge not, lest thou be not judged".....the word said, "I have said that ye are gods, to sit in judgement".....can I "love my fellow man"....when, "if your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out"........I tolerate a crooked and corrupt government with a clear conscience, because I have to "give unto Caesar, what is Caesar's".....but I'm also supposed to "come out of her, the great harlot"......and go where......to whom..."for none are righteous, and fall short of the glory of GOD"........Jesus?........"the son of the living GOD".......He does say, "no man cometh unto the Father, but by me"........but.........wasn't he "after the order of Melchezidek"? Who was he....he had "neither beginning, nor ending of days...even, our Father Abraham paid a tenth"...... are the Muslims right? Buddhists? Atheists? Does the Trinity Doctrine resemble the ancient Egyptian epic of Osiris, Isis, and Horus.......Does the Flood Story copy the Epic of Gilgamesh? Is the ancient Egyptian god Thoth and Enoch the same person? Did Nostradamus predict any of this? Is the "Lost Books of the Bible" really not to be taken seriously? Paul quotes from it......as does the book of Jude........is that a female on the right of Jesus in the "Last Supper".......was it she, "the one that Jesus loved"..........Could he and Mary Magdalene have had offspring......he is "the way".....and he did say, "follow me"......would GOD have his "only begotten son" single, and a virgin? When his first commandment was "to be frutiful and multiply".......what, not his own son? Yes, I know he "rose on the 3rd day with all power in his hands".........still wanna know what happened to his bones, though....as "flesh and blood can not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven"......or, are they lost like Moses'?..... or......am I just lost?

I love the Lord "with all my heart, all my mind, and all my soul,"...and I will continue to "contend for the faith".........but I damn sure ain't ready to preach!

Crumbs to Bricks...Part II (Sarasota, Fl)

yeah, I know, bout muthafuckin time.......been busy mayne, been busy.......kids, football, all that shit......but I said I would continue the saga, and here it is.........part II.......part II is unlike parts III and IV (yeah, this a four part series.......I was doing big thangs shawty!) as it occurred immediately following part I, plus, I wanted to hurry up and get to the "meat;" Part III occurred ten years later, in 1995, while part IV, the FINALE, occurred in January 1997, and continued til the day I left Florida, for Atlanta, on September 16th, 1999!!!!!!!


We left off part I in Panama City Fl, in the spring of 1985, with me being the Candy Man of Panama City; By the time the school year had ended, I had built up a nice lil nest egg. Don't recall how much, but I was skrait!!!! Had to be, cause I knew the summer was coming, and my clientele would cease.....niggas round the way wuddn't buying no blow pops, specially when they could go to the store and get 'em cheaper....so I had to have forward thinking and plan ahead...which was to save!!!!!!! Even as a shorty, I had a hustler's mentality.......save for the rainy days!!!!! anybody that has ever been involved with hustling, in any form or fashion, knows, rainy days do come......I found out then, and I found out later..........so anyways, I stacked my lil blow pop money......all was cool, it kept me from having to ask granny, or call home to Mom's for loot cause although she had went back to Sarasota, she was still chillin from the surgery......my blow pop money, plus some other lil hustles, like marbles, lasted me til the end of the summer....I knew I'd be going back to Sarasota for the next school term, fall of 1985; Mom's was ok, going back to work, and Granny wuddn't feeling no teenagers..so it was cool.....however, I had a decision to make.......going back to Sarasota meant I would be in 9th grade, high school down there, whereas in PC, they were still under the Jr. High School system, which meant I would have been a Sr at the Jr High level....really, though, that wasn't a choice, I was going back to Sarasota...the decision was rather to play another year of peewee football (in Fl, you can play peewee football til you're 13, and I didn't turn 14 til after the deadline) or play freshman football at the high school level???????? Shiiiiiiiiiid, that was a no-brainer.....I weighed roughly 95lbs soaking wet, I could still weigh in, in full gear, I didn't have to compete for a starting spot, and, I was the shit!!!!! Peewee football here I come!!!!!!!!
A lot of my boys ragged on me for still playing peewee football while in high school, but shiiiiid, I didn't care, I was being realistic about the situation..I wuddnt but a buck o'five, our freshman team fielded 90 players (our school had a student body of 2,700) of all shapes and sizes from all over.....and frankly speaking (Stephen A Smith impersonation), I wanted to play!!!!! the odds were slim to none that I'd get much clock with those odds, regardless of how good I was......y'all know how the state of Florida is when it comes to football.....FSU, Miami, U of F, shiiiiid, them niggas come from somewhere....and my school, RIVERVIEW HIGH SCHOOL, (we're talkin bout a school with a fuckin planetarium, and a damn nuclear radiation lab (yeah, I took that shit...looks good on a transcript!).......can you say 90210!) was a damn breeding ground for talent.....so ya boi wudda just been lost in the shuffle, and my lil ego wuddn't ready for that just yet, not coming off of a euphoric summer of being the man!!!!! Nah, I had to go out in a blaze my last year.......But I needed loot to maintain my rep...........

We weren't broke....but we wuddn't ballin either.....traditional middle class black family, mom, dad, 2 kids......so the folks were able to give me an allowance...not much, basically the change left over from my weekly lunch money.....but that wuddn't enough, and blow pops wasn't gon cut it in high school......so how was I to get loot..or extra loot, as I felt the need for........I ain't gon lie y'all, I didn't have a clue........

When I got back to Sarasota from PC at the end of the summer of '85, it was like I had stepped into the twilight zone or sum'in....everything had changed, my neighborhood didn't even look the same, nor, did it sound the same......Sarasota had gotten LOUD!!!! real loud.......the BASS revolution had begun...Jam Pony Express DJ's, The Original 2 Live Crew (when Luke was "Luke Skywalker") , DJ Majic Mike....was all you heard comin outta niggas' cars......the cars....lawd hammercy!!! Cutlass' and Regals'.....that's all niggas seemed to be drivin...with rag tops, trues and vogues, that was the shit!!!! Them 9 months in PC put me way behind the 8-ball...I had to get hip all over again, this was new to me, but I wanted in...somehow, someway!
So the school year began without a hitch.....same ol, same ol.......bout round October, one of my boys started missing a lot of school...not like him....although he lived with his grandmother and 3 other siblings, it was a tight knit group, they had an uncle that would beat the shit outta of them better'n any father could, so they weren't lacking for a father figure.....But D (won't reveal any names, cause some of these niggas still in the game.......yeah, 20 years later!!!! (definitely 10 years later in '95, as you'll see in part III)), just stopped coming to school all of a sudden...he'd come maybe once a week, twice if he felt like it....teachers would ask me about him because we were so tight.......shiiiiid, I didn't know my damn self......one saturday afternoon at the peewee field, everybody came out, that was the spot on Saturdays...regardless if they ragged or not, niggas came out!!!! I saw D....I was like, "nigga where you been?" D was just grinnin......I'm like what the fuck is so funny, yo ass done damn near quit school in the 9th grade!!! (which was unheard of back in tha days) D was like, "man I'm gettin paid".......Huh?????? paid????? How??.........D said...........dope!!!!!! Huh????? Mind you, I'm fresh off the "wack" boat...(wack was the term for "lame' back then) so I had no clue what dope was.......hell, I'm only 14.......D said dope was cocaine...crack cocaine.....and he was sellin it.....14 years old as well....sellin dope! He had the pockets to prove it........I was like damn.....eyes wide open.......but I knew damn well, I couldn't sell no dope, not with my pop!!! Shiiiiiid, there were parts of town I couldn't even go to, let alone call myself sellin dope....I knew that was out....D did too....so he stopped me short of even askin how could I be down......."Boy yo Daddy 'll beat yo ass"......and he would too!! But I needed a pocket like D's.......swole!!!!
I couldn't get that knot outta my head.....had to have been a coupla hundred, if not a "g" that nigga had that Saturday afternoon. As luck would have it....D came to school that following Monday....the cool part about it was, we had 3 classes together so I saw the nigga damn near all day....and you know what I had on my mind.....that knot......how you get on? where you get it from? what yo gram'ma say? all kinds of questions.....by 6th period (remember it like it was yesterday!) D was like, "what's up then nigga? you trynna get in the dope game or sum'in?" I was speechless...cause I wasn't expecting that...I was just curious about the "game" itself......but ego took over, and I was like "yeah, put me on." "But you know I can't be out late and shit, how I'm gon sell dope with a curfew?" "And what if somebody sees me, you know they gon tell my Daddy!" D was like don't worry bout that.....you still get an allowance? (that too had been the butt of jokes....gettin an allowance.....niggas wuddn't gettin allowances, that was white folks shit)...I said yeah! He said how much money you got? I had $20, he said lemme hold it........I didn't know what the fuck that was all about....I was square to the game.......he said, "I'mma 'flip' it for you, you ain't gotta do nuttin but bring $20 to school every Monday, I'll flip it, and give you your money on Fridays." I was leery, cause hell, I was lucky to even see him that day, let alone DEPEND on this nigga.......but D was my boy, so I said what the hell, and gave him the $20........Friday came, no D....I was mad as hell...damn near in tears.......thinking my boy done got me!!!! I just knew I'd see him Saturday at the field, where I usually saw him as of late......No D......dammitt man!!!! the next day, Sunday, I forget where I was, but here comes D...ridin up on a bike....smilin.....I'm not, I'm mad as shit, ready to swing on my homeboy over a dub......"yo mama told me where you were, I just left yo house.......yeah....(my mama loved his funny lookin self) ....yeah, she said you'd be up here........but check this out dawg....I'm waitin on a sob story....here you go....and handed me a $50 dollar bill.....my eyes lit up!!!! You made this offa that $20 I gave you? Nigga, that ain't shit, I knew yo ass was gon be trippin when you ain't see me at school Friday, but this all I got on me...you can take this $50 and take it as a come-up, or you can reinvest....you see I'm good for it.....and he was......this was my dawg I was talkin bout....so I said, let me keep the $50, but here's $20 more, keep flippin this..........It was on y'all.......I took that $50 and put it in my wallet and carried it around like teens carried old, faded rubbers in their wallet......that $50 was my status symbol.....but I had a problem....couldn't spend it.....folks knew how much money they were giving me, so I couldn't just go out and splurge like I wanted to, so I had to hide my money; same principle applies to the game today; Money Laundering would be the appropriate term (as I would come to learn in part IV)..........besides the football field on Saturdays, and the local arcade on Sundays, I had nowhere to floss my cheese!!!!! Then it hit me.......I told y'all what kind of school I attended...nuttin but rich white folks, and I was cool with them, in fact had some real close friends that I had played peewee ball with throughout the years, and we remained close througout high school as well...However, they had outgrown me by leaps and bounds, and they would give me a lot of their shit that had gotten too small for them...it didn't make me no never mind cause it was always nice, name brand shit that was always practically brand new......white folks was always givin me shit.....I ain't turn it down either! Bugle Boy, Jordache, Calvin Klein, you name it.........so what I started doing was, after, or sometimes during school, I'd go to the mall down the street and go shopping; I'd put my clothes in my locker at school, wear em' and have my white friends wash 'em at their house, and by the time the "newness" wore off I'd take 'em home as just sum'in else "one of my white friends gave me."
"Pretty Tony" was born. My very first purchase were a pair of burgundy penny loafers! yep, I was rockin the penny loafers.....with no socks at that! Oh, I loved to dress preppy! Penny loafers, no socks, bugle boy jeans that rolled up at the bottom, and a button down shirt! That was me! On Saturdays I would come to the field in my penny loafers and shorts...couldn't tell me shit!!!! As opposed to collecting from D every week, I'd just give him $10 every sunday at the arcade, and collected every other week, which usually amounted to about $2-300......I had to save alot because wuddn't that much clothes givin in the world, and I didn't want the folks to get suspicious...so I stacked!!!! The folks didn't find out, but somehow word got out on the streets, and at school, that me and D were partners, and I was frontin him my "lunch money" to come-up.......ain't nobody trip though......in fact, I was gettin props....Sr's were noticing me and even speaking to me....back then, freshmen didn't fuck with Sr's, let alone, Sr's fuck with freshmen.....I mean we were cool 'cause of my peewee days, and everybody knew my pops, but we weren't that cool.......then I found out why all the attention......Me and D kept our partnership going for most of the freshman year, til he just finally dropped out of school all together in the spring...but hell, I had made a lot of money, and the thrill had worn off, plus I was gettin tired of hidin shit from my parents (I was a good kid back then.....cocky, but still a good kid).....so when D left, I got out......the folks who knew of us, knew D had dipped....and they pretty much knew that he was my "partner in crime."............til one day in the hall way........"Shorty McKay, ya boy gone now, who gon put you down.....(smirkin).......won't you ask yo DADDY....he got all the work!"..........................What the Hell?????????

To be continued..................