When I was around 19-20 years old, I lived about 7 or 10 minutes down the highway from The City, if you're driving by car. It took from 15 to 20 minutes on the bus, and we have four buses going there every 15 minutes. I used to go there to get what was called double ups. That's when you go to the city, and get nickels, dimes, or even $20 bags of crack, and come back to a little suburban town and sell them for double the price. It had been days where I woke up with $15 in my pocket, borrowed $20 more, and within two or three trips, on a good day, end the night with between $200-$300. That was usually enough to buy weight. It takes some persistence and determination, along with a little luck.
If I copped from the same block often enough, and dealt with the same dudes on a consistent enough basis, I would get a hustlers play. As long as I had $100 or better, they would throw me an extra three or four bags with the understanding that I would consistently come see them with those big drops. Within a week or so, I would be ready to get weight, then, I would part ways with the city block boys.
I was on a hiatus from the trap, when, I got locked up for a warrant and had to pay $470 to be released and done with it. I went on ahead and paid it off in full so I wouldn't have to worry about it again. That left me with a little over $100 to do something with. At the time, I had a job, so I wasn't really out on the street like that but, then, I got locked up. I got fired from my job and fell on desperate times.
So now, I was determined to dive head first back into the streets. I never had plans of being a kingpin. I was very content making no more than $4000 or $5000 a week. That quiet, under the radar money, and I kept at least a part time job. Even when I wasn't working, I would make it a point of walking around in the uniform from my old job, just so the police and everybody else could see me in it. In my experience, the cops wouldn't look at you as hard if they knew or thought you got up and went to work every day like they did.
Like I said, it had been a few years since I needed to get double ups, and I was unfamiliar with which blocks had the best bang for my dollar. So, I asked around, and I was told 5th and Lilburn had nickel bags that were big enough to break down into two dimes. I was hyped, because I usually got dimes, but this is exactly what I needed. I always believed in bagging up big, and flipping quick, so I was pretty excited to make my come up and predicted I would only need two or three days before I could grab ½ an ounce.
I caught the bus, even though I had a car, feeling it would be a safer bet avoiding the cops. The set was a nice little hike away from the bus stop, maybe six or seven blocks. I walked with a little pep in my step, anxious to get there and get back, knowing I would probably do this at least two more times before the end of the night.
At the bottom of the block, I saw the lookout, a solemn looking soldier, who looked to be all business. My radar told me he was probably strapped, and the cops weren't the only thing he was looking out for. I nodded as I passed, and he gave me a look up and down, and nodded back. I made it a point to not look too clean and polished, because the dealers wouldn't serve me, thinking I could be an undercover. As I approached the set, two young boys came running up to me.
"Yo, this is my trap. You had the last one."
"Nah, you had the last two before that. Let me get this one...."
"Hold on, boys," I said, slightly amused. I got $100 to spend. Just split it." I look both of them over. These boys couldn't be more than 13, 14 years old. I felt a pang of guilt, contributing to the corruption of these innocent, young boys. Damn, we're failing our community. I had guilty conscious thoughts like this every once in a while. But this thought became a distraction, and this distraction was going to cost me.
