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.....



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