The Fighter's Club #Wattys2015Winner

Hayden "Chance" Sanchez

I walked into one of my warehouse spattered across the city and country for that matter. I slipped through my private entrance and into my office.

“Weight that shit and pack it , It’s money to be made.” I yelled out loud into the mic startling most of my workers shitless as my voice boomed throughout the building.

 It’s rare I make an appearance or should I say it’s rare I let my presence be known. I run the game from here the Miami Shores to high skies of the Chi.

I stay low-key in the cut, make my money and let the lil niggas below me work that shit on the streets. I seen many niggas come and go because their ego got the best of them.

Out’chea thinking you invincible only gone get you one thing: death.

Which is why I play this the only way I know how: smart.

You never catch me with pound, kilo, or nothing. My hands stay clean and I make sure my niggas who work for me do the same.

Niggas know I’m not to played with, I’ll end ya life in the blink of an eye.

No feelings attached, no love lost.

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The name is Hayden Sanchez, known to the game as Chance.

Them’ lil ass boys you think ballin’ on ya corner stoop, I’m their boss. They report to me.

Never let the shit you see fool you, it’s food chain out’chea. I’m the fucking King of the jungle and ya basic ass d boys you see they some lil ass cubs still wet behind the ears. They get what I decide to give ‘em.

I stand firmly at 6’3, high yellow nigga curtacy of my half Spanish mom and pops, tampered fade on the either side, freshly trimmed beard, with eyes that range from deep dark green to light hazel depending on the day or my mood.

Simply put, the bitches flock to a nigga. I get what I want from ‘em and send ‘em packing.

Heartless is what they call me. The way I see if you cross my path, you obviously didn’t love ya life enough. So why tf should I spare it ?

Love? Unless ya fam. That shits foreign as shit to me.