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“One of my mans I fuck wit’ up in here is his peoples. And you know don’t shit happen on the streets that we don’t know ’bout.”
“Hmm. And where’d you get that shit ’bout Tamia?”
“’Cause another one of my man’s brothas was fuckin’ wit’ her for a minute on the low, and now he got that shit. He tellin’ cats he got it from her nasty ass.”
“Well, you got ya facts twisted. Ain’t no way Iris frontin’ shit for no nigga. She might be stuntin’ his ass, but frontin’ him? Nah, nigga, you got the wrong one. And I know damn well Tamia ain’t on it like that.”
“Nah, baby, real talk. My mans got flicks of ya girl Iris wit’ his peoples, mad chillin’. I’m tellin’ ya, dude got her straight rockin’ his dick. The cat’s stretchin’ her neck, and got her pushin’ them thangs for him. Matter of fact, he got like five or six bitches in his stable makin’ that shit do what it do. And that shit wit’ Tamia, I don’t really know how true it is, but word to life this ain’t the only nigga sayin’ it. There’s another cat she supposedly done did dirty, too. You know I’ma real nigga, and I ain’t gonna say shit that ain’t real.”
“So, if you know all this, then why you askin’ me? Both of ’em are grown-ass women. Iris can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper. And I ain’t got shit to do with Tamia’s pussy conditions.”
“Yo, just tell ’em both to be easy. Shit is real hectic out there.”
I knew what he meant. The streets were hot. ATF, TNT, FBI, DEA, SWAT, niggas were gettin’ bagged and popped left and right. Iris knew this. It’s on the news, in the papers, on the radio. The drug game, major paper or not, came with some serious risks. Some people gotta live it to learn it. And that mess ’bout Tamia, I refused to believe that shit. Yeah, when the bitch was in her teens she mighta got reckless with it, but she knew shit was too fuckin’ serious now. A bitch could end up with some shit she can’t get rid of. Fuck that, ain’t no way this ho was bein’ that damn stupid. But if it was true, then she’d get what her hand called for. A bitch can end up at the bottom of a river for some grimy shit like that.
“That’s on them,” I finally said.
“Yeah, but that’s ya peoples. And one’s fuckin’ wit’ a real live nigga, wit?
?? a whole lotta enemies. I hope she knows what she’s stepped into. And the other is playin’ wit fire fuckin’ these niggas’ lives up. Some of these niggas she’s fuckin’ got families ’n shit.”
I twisted my face up. “Okay, so you tryna say she’s responsible for what the fuck these niggas bring home to their chicks. Fuck that! That’s on their stupid asses for creepin’, and for fuckin’ a bitch raw. So, them niggas get what they get.”
I hated that shit! Muhfuckas always wanna blame somebody else for their shit crumblin’. You play reckless, then you die reckless.
“Nah, I ain’t sayin’ that,” he said. “’Cause them niggas should know how to move. But at the end of the day, she should be responsible enough to tell ’em.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped. “If the bitch wasn’t bein’ responsible fuckin’ a nigga raw, what the fuck makes you think she’d be responsible enough to wanna tell the next muhfucka her pussy ain’t right. Obviously, she had to get it from some nigga.”
Okay, I ain’t gonna front. Listenin’ to Naheem’s ass got a bitch sizzlin’ mad. First I’m thinkin’, why the fuck is he talkin’ loose on the phone? I thought they listened in on all those lines. Then I’m thinkin’, if what he was sayin’ was true about Iris, I was gonna scream on that dumb bitch. Fuckin’ a nigga pushin’ weight was one thing, but bein’ his gofer or mule was a whole other thing. We all knew a few chicks on lock for takin’ the weight for some nigga. And while her ass is doin’ his bid, doin’ his time, he’s makin’ moves with the next bitch. We used to laugh at them silly-ass hoes.
And if that bitch Tamia was out here fuckin’ niggas knowin’ her pussy was rotten, and wasn’t tryna tell them niggas, then that was some real foul shit. What the fuck is these bitches thinkin’, I thought. I needed to call them hoes.
“Who’s the nigga Iris’s fuckin’ with?” I asked, already knowin’ he wasn’t gonna pass off that kinda info. I didn’t even bother to ask him ’bout the nigga talkin’ that shit ’bout Iris ’cause I wasn’t tryna believe it.
“Ask ya girl.”
I sucked my teeth, then took a deep breath. “Uh, why’d you call me again?” I asked.
He lowered his voice. “I was tryna bust this nut wit’ you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nigga, please. Not today you won’t. You betta take that shit somewhere else.”
“Come on, ma, real quick. Let me hear some of that nasty shit you like.”
I sighed. “Look, Naheem. I gotta go.”
“Oh, so you just gonna leave a nigga’s dick stiff.”
“Well, if ya nasty ass kept ya hand outta ya pants and stopped strokin’ while talkin’ to me, the shit wouldn’t be bricked the fuck up. So that’s on you. Call me one day next week, aiight?”
“Yeah, baby. I can do that. When?”
I thought for a minute. “Hmm, like Wednesday or Thursday night.” Those were days I knew I wouldn’t be home. A bitch wasn’t beat to listen to any more of his prison-yard gossip, and I damn sure wouldn’t be phone-fuckin’ him.
“Bet. You know I love you, right?”
“Like you love that bird you fuckin’ with?”
