Illmatic Treasure

Illmatic 11

" I'm the boss! I'm not too fond of questions. " - Slim

Do Right ...

" Give me this shit ! You making me get my fucking hands dirty. Mark! " Slim yells breathing heavily as he snatches the button up shirt off of one of his block-boys that he just beat up. Sounds of the buttons pop in the quiet warehouse.
All his men stood around to watch as he commanded them to.
Most of them stood nonchalant while others shook their heads with pity.
This was a bad time.

Today is cash-in day and, it was always , always this one nigga that held everything up. If you haven't secured your chips its trouble. Slim usually wouldn't trip on him and would let dude breath but, he also warned him last month that he wanted his money on time; no excuses.
" You think this a mufuckin' arcade I'm running here,boy ?! You thought I was playin' when I told you I wanted my money on time, B ! " His voice bounces off the walls as he wiped his hands clean on the young man's shirt.

The block-boy groans in pain spitting blood on the concrete under him.
JoJo his young bull stood against the wall behind Slim like a soldier of steel ready.
He squeezes his glocks in each hand with the silencers attached.
You could hear the distinct sound of money machines flipping the guap in the distance upstairs ; that Monroe- his accountant is in charge of.

Today is payday as well but, that was slowed up by the boss. He had to make an example out of somebody every now and then.
A smile stretches across Slim's face as he laughs wickedly. " I warned you lil' nigga. " He calms pointing his whole hand at him like an arrow piercing its target.
" Now ya nuts in the ringer today muhfucka! Your dead out here ,B ! "
The battered man tried to oppose but before he could Slim clocks him in the jaw, one last time for good measure.

" I can't have no weak links in my organization, you understand me?! I'm not having that shit! " Slim fumes spit flying from his mouth as he throws the shirt at the block-boy's head. He turns away from everyone giving JoJo the signal that he knew all too well. 'Handle that.' JoJo nods in respect.
Slim walks away with a heavy mind his fist balled up. He pulls his black Kangol bucket-hat over his eyes in frustration.
"Any mufucka' that plan on getting paid today get back to fucking work!" He relays loudly as his office door slams.

~ ~ ~

"Man, who knew that shit would happen that fast ... A nigga just had to take a leak real quick." JoJo leans back in the black leather chair blowing out a breath tiredly letting it be known for the thousandth time this month in front of Pops' desk. Slim and JoJo sat in his red with gold trimming painted office. The boss rotates his brass silver stress-relief balls around in his right hand as his left held the projector remote. JoJo shook his head at the footage they managed to scrape up from the Tunnel Club a few weeks back.