Ain't Nothing To It, Real One Aint Nothing To It, Boss

Malone

Tragedy was always the best time to strike. Niggas nowadays let their livelihood depend on their emotions instead of the logic our predecessors bestowed upon us. My father, Ulysses Mackenzie, would never let the kingdom he built with his raw ingenuity lie unguarded because my mother had a papercut. That's what I called that little nick Urban's girlfriend had. All the nigga needed to do was make sure the bitch was breathing and keep it pushing. Nicole knew if something happened to her I would wait for a call letting me know she was better and if I never got the call to make sure she looks good before they put her six feet under. I didn't like hospitals (I didn't even go inside when I saw Nicole earlier) and the next time I ever planned to visit one was when they were rolling me into the morgue. That mentality was what forced me to me to make this tough decision.

"Tell me you got me some more information to work with," this bitch ass FBI agent said as he sifted through the papers I handed over to him. He gave the first page a thorough once over. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? From what you're telling me, your brother's straight as an arrow. You have me doing surveillance on his house, yet you haven't planted any of the bugs I gave you."

I sucked my teeth in frustration. "Nigga, you ain't never been inside that motherfucker, have you? He has it swept once a week. Only four of us stayed there. If he has it swept again and finds a fucking bug who do you think he gon' think put it there? Me!" I sunk deeper into my seat. "If my brother finds out that I'm flipping on him I'm dead man walking."

"Well, it's either snitch or kiss your kids goodbye and take the life sentence you're looking at like a man. To be quite honest, you're getting off well if you ask me. As number three in this organization, you can provide us with more than enough information to get you off for the 250 kilos we caught you moving through the port. Am I right or am I right?"

I took a good look at this pretty boy looking motherfucker. He was one of them sell out niggas who thought their money and badges were an armor, that these crackers wouldn't pop him if he even sneezed wrong. "Nigga, fuck you."

"Fucking me is how you say fuck your immunity, Malone."

"I gave you something worth value; you apply enough pressure on that bitch and she'll start running her mouth about all types of shit. She was fucking Ángel Garza. That nigga is dead, and I already told you my shorty was the one to take him out. She even had my cousin running up in that spot. These niggas love that bitch and I promise if you make her love you she'll turn against them, give you whatever the fuck you want."

Winston O'Neal laughed at my theory, placing the papers against his face and shaking with giggles. He removed the papers wiped at his eyes. "Trish is a liability. Does she have a wealth of information? I'm sure she does. Can I get enough to assist in my case against the Jinetes? Maybe. If I push the right button at the wrong time could this blow up in my face? Abso-fucking-loutely."

"Then have some fucking patience. You still don't have a solid case against my brother!"

"Due to your abysmal performance as an informant!" Winston shouted, his voice reverberating through his Maybach. "I'm starting to wonder if this is a ploy. That Urban is well aware of our investigation and you're stalling so he can move his assets, and anything else that might tie him to The Trust."

Was this nigga serious right now? "You think if I told Urban what the fuck you're up that you would still be alive? You ain't the first Fed motherfucker to start stirring shit up. Niggas been tryna take us down for years and ain't succeeded. Urban chews you college educated motherfuckers up and spits you out 'cause got degrees too."

"I'm sure that college education he has is the reason why he's not sitting here, and you are. I bet that pisses you off, doesn't it? You're the big brother, yet somehow your little brother ended up being in charge of the family business. To top off this pathetic excuse of a life you live, he doesn't even make you his second in command; he chooses his cousin, who also is degreed. How many degrees does Koi have again?"