leg·end
1. a traditional story sometimes popularly regarded as historical but unauthenticated.
2. an extremely famous or notorious person, especially in a particular field.
When you look at Marcel Young (Vince Staples) you see an average height, sli...
Sprite really does taste different everywhere! That's like a fact. Because of certain regulations, you can only put so many sugars... -Vince Staples [Facts💯]
Marcel San Pedro, CA
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I sat in the visiting room of the Federal Correctional Institution, Terminal Island with my cousin, Joey. Finally, I saw my brother who just turned 20 and got moved to a closer facility, come out. He's serving time because my dad got him in on his dirt while he's free. He came up sitting at the table smiling showing his gap that once again came from our father. Victor aka Smalls. Growing up they used to call Joey and his brothers their name with Fatts at the end, while they did the same for us but Smalls. After socking a couple of niggas out they learned to quit calling me that. I might've been small, but I packed a punch.
"Wassup, cuh? How you?" Joey said with a smile.
"Getting through each day knowing I'm closer to freedom. No matter the time or how long. Gotta stay positive. You feel me?" He said with a smile as well. My brothers only a year younger than me, but he looks older than me. He was now muscular from lifting weights to pass the time. I also noticed a tattoo near his hairline that wasn't there before as well as tattoos all over his arms. I told him not to get a whole bunch of tattoos so when he gets out he can at least have a chance at being a normal citizen. They're already going to look at his record and cross him out, but even more so when they see him.
"You hear Nate is out?" I said dryly changing the mood.
"I heard. You know sis came to visit me the other day. She said she moved up out of grannies house back wit her first baby daddy. Said she couldn't be around him. She said he's on the same shit. I heard you got in a fight with him. You good?"
"I'm good," I reassured him.
"He's definitely good. I went by and his face is all fucked up. You really got him good with that pocket knife," Joey said chuckling.
"Good," I said drumming my fingers on the table. "You want me to talk to your lawyer about possibly getting you an appeal date?"
"You can try. I think you just gotta forgive him, Sell."
"For what?" I said jerking my head back.
"For everything. For me, what he did to us and Momma. Shit, even Sammy." I froze hearing that name. It's not that I forgot about him, I just push it to the back of my mind. It hurts too much.
Samuel was the oldest out of the once five of us. My dad was out for a short stint and he turned to selling pills instead of coke after noticing the shift in drug culture. Xanax was one of those pills. Somehow Sammy became a pill poppin feign and I know it's because my dad probably encouraged him to try it. My dad didn't care who you were as long as he got money off of you. He sold my brother the same Xanax pills he overdosed on. In my mind, my dad killed my brother or at least helped.
