Post by Desaree on Sept 15, 2012 13:46:10 GMT -5
As soon as I step into Club Xstacy, the first thing that comes to my mind is "dang!" because the first thing that I see is a room full of honies. I'm talking about chicks that are dimes in the face, but dollars in the booty. Everywhere I look, I'm greeted by a donk or a pair of double D's. My friends told me that X was the ish, but they didn't do this spot justice.
"Jody, wassup, my nigga?" comes from somewhere to the left of me, and I turn to see my boy Cornell walking towards me. "I see you made it over here without getting lost."
"You see wrong. I had to ask for directions twice," I reply, giving him dap and checking out his expensive neck glow. "And I got cursed out both times. These broads in Florida are rude."
"Welcome to my city, young. You better get used to that if you plan on staying down here. If you thought Jersey was bad, you're up for a rude awakening." He leads me towards the bar and we sit on the only two available stools. "Let me get the usual," he says to the bartender, "and a margarita on the rocks for my boy."
The bartender smiles and proceeds to make the drinks.
"Yo, Cornell, that chain you're wearing is dope." I touch the ice around his neck, and I can tell that it's made of pure gold. "I need to start stacking up again. You gon' help a nigga set up shop?"
When I relocated here from New Jersey with my two sons last week, all I brought with me where work is concerned was two hundred kilograms of cocain and a little bit of Mary Jane. I was a kingpin in Jersey, and I moved down here to expand my business. The agreement I made with my oldest son's mom, who still lives up north, was that as long as she remembers to send me one hundred and fifty kilograms of Jersey's finest at the beginning of every month, I'll keep her pockets laced.
"You know I got you, Jody. I might even join your crew 'cause the nigga I sell for now been on some new stuff as of late," Cornell says as the bartender hands us our beverages. "Thank you, baby." He turns back to me. "I can help you set up a business to make your stuff seem legit, too."
"Bet that up, blood. I gotta think about letting you work for me, though. You know friends and money don't mix."
"Jody, you been my road dawg since second grade. We aint friends; we're brothers."
I smile at my boy before taking my drink to the head.
"I'ma let you ponder that for a few minutes," Cornell says, standing up and patting me on the back.
Cornell and I have been tight since we met when we were seven, which means we've been cool for fourteen years. Even after he moved down here, we remained thick as thieves. Back in Newark, we're known for causing trouble together, and ain't nothing changed but the city we'll be causing trouble in from now on.
I stand up and order another drink as I look around the large room. No doubt, they do it big down south. The clubs in Jersey are nothing like this. Everything from the furniture down to the chicks are better here.
"Here you go, baby," the bartender says as she hands me a cup of ciroc.
"Jody, wassup, my nigga?" comes from somewhere to the left of me, and I turn to see my boy Cornell walking towards me. "I see you made it over here without getting lost."
"You see wrong. I had to ask for directions twice," I reply, giving him dap and checking out his expensive neck glow. "And I got cursed out both times. These broads in Florida are rude."
"Welcome to my city, young. You better get used to that if you plan on staying down here. If you thought Jersey was bad, you're up for a rude awakening." He leads me towards the bar and we sit on the only two available stools. "Let me get the usual," he says to the bartender, "and a margarita on the rocks for my boy."
The bartender smiles and proceeds to make the drinks.
"Yo, Cornell, that chain you're wearing is dope." I touch the ice around his neck, and I can tell that it's made of pure gold. "I need to start stacking up again. You gon' help a nigga set up shop?"
When I relocated here from New Jersey with my two sons last week, all I brought with me where work is concerned was two hundred kilograms of cocain and a little bit of Mary Jane. I was a kingpin in Jersey, and I moved down here to expand my business. The agreement I made with my oldest son's mom, who still lives up north, was that as long as she remembers to send me one hundred and fifty kilograms of Jersey's finest at the beginning of every month, I'll keep her pockets laced.
"You know I got you, Jody. I might even join your crew 'cause the nigga I sell for now been on some new stuff as of late," Cornell says as the bartender hands us our beverages. "Thank you, baby." He turns back to me. "I can help you set up a business to make your stuff seem legit, too."
"Bet that up, blood. I gotta think about letting you work for me, though. You know friends and money don't mix."
"Jody, you been my road dawg since second grade. We aint friends; we're brothers."
I smile at my boy before taking my drink to the head.
"I'ma let you ponder that for a few minutes," Cornell says, standing up and patting me on the back.
Cornell and I have been tight since we met when we were seven, which means we've been cool for fourteen years. Even after he moved down here, we remained thick as thieves. Back in Newark, we're known for causing trouble together, and ain't nothing changed but the city we'll be causing trouble in from now on.
I stand up and order another drink as I look around the large room. No doubt, they do it big down south. The clubs in Jersey are nothing like this. Everything from the furniture down to the chicks are better here.
"Here you go, baby," the bartender says as she hands me a cup of ciroc.
