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After I sent Niyah my last text, I went over to meet up with my nigga Trell in Opa-Locka, where the nigga now resides with his cousin. I been knowing him ever since middle school, when we were living up in New Orleans for a few years. We were two hot-headed ass street yougins those days, man.
It's actually crazy how we met. Back in the 7th grade, I had beef with these lame, wannabe thug muthafuckas who swear they lived that street life. They jumped me one time and even tho' I knew I coulda handle 'em on my own, that's when Trell showed up and helped a nigga, and I ain't even knew him. He told me that them same lames was actually tryna rob him a few minutes befo' that and he was chasin' 'em down. Ever since then, he been my rida' and never switched up.
Arriving at Opa-Locka, I drove cautiously through the block 'cause these niggas out here be on some other shit. People were staring all in my shit as I was ridin' by, instantly making a nigga uncomfortable. Most of the time, they be thinkin' you 5-0 and so be on full guard. Other times, probably 'cause the car never has been seen befo', so ya' may be an uninvited guest in the wrong hood.
After a few minutes, I finally pulled up to Trell's spot only to see him posted up on the hood of his all black 1970 Dodge Challenger while breaking down some weed. That's all he ever fucks with, is them classic cars and a bag of weed. I noticed that he had some niggas hangin' about and by they postures, I wasn't trustin' 'em. I ain't know 'em so they probably would try to rob my shit. That's why I always stay strapped, case some niggas wanna be bold.
I got up out my whip and walked over to Trell with them niggas sizin' me up as I pass by. I gave 'em the same look back, daring any of 'em to try some shit. I look back at Trell and he still ain't noticed me as he roll that blunt. I smirked. "Trell, you long neck ass dirty bastard!" I call out to him and he turned around with a frown befo' seeing it was me, then that nigga had the biggest smile on his face.
"Is that my nigga, Ant I see?!" He said still smilin' as he jumped off his car. "You light-skinned pretty muthafucka! What's good, nigga?!" He joyfully yells while laughing as we dapped each other then get into a brotherly hug.
"Damn, man it's been a minute. How you been, bruh?" I said as we pulled away. "I'm good. A nigga can't really complain. No homo, but I missed yo' ol' air-head ass." I started laughing. Back in the day, he would always call me that 'cause he never understood why I had such a big ass head on my tiny body. Nigga said I floated outta my mama head first when she gave birth to me. I ain't been the same ever since.
"Fuck you, nigga but I missed ya' too." I said. "Aye, say no homo. You sound like one of my bitches just now, man." He says lookin' at me crazy but was still laughin'. "Get the fuck outta here. You know damn well I ain't mean it on no gay shit, fool."
"Just fuckin' witchu. C'mon nigga, got some of that good shit I gotta finish breakin' down," he happily says as we walked over to his car. "You just got them?" I ask him. "Hell yeah. As soon as a nigga touchdown in Miami, the first thing I did was hit up my connect, bro." Of course this nigga gon' be worrying about gettin' his supply once he got here. He can't ever go a day without gettin' high.
