{2021 MJFA's Best Urban winner}
Michael Jackson, street thug, makes contact with a young girl around his age. He was battling his own inner problems and just when he thought life just wasn't getting better, she humbled him.
She intrigued him, she w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"In your eyes, I know it hurts to smile" - weeknd
𝐌ichael could be a kind soul if he wanted to, but nobody could deny that he scared the living soul out of anyone who passes him. He was never one to back down from anything no matter what. When it came to the people he loves, he goes harder. He's harmless when unprovoked but can really turn into a beast when combated.
"Hands behind yo damn head nigga. I'on think you want me ta shoot yo ass. Wit' yo hand all up in ya pockets it look like you gon' do somethin' to me. Hands where I can see 'em and imma make this fast." He casually said, holding a man at gunpoint.
Pop is another mastermind behind money and has his homies around town holding money and such with them. Michael and him did business together and it's still running, but they're separate ways. He still has his fair share and he wishes to receive it today. "Keep rackin' it up I ain't tell you to stop." He scolded them
"Nigga you doin' all dis fo what? Gon' about yo day."
Michael chuckled bitterly. "Watch yo mouth, jit." He muttered, although the man he held at gunpoint was older than him.
"Here." Tracy, another street thug, muttered, chewing on a toothpick as he held up a stack of money. "Take it 'n leave." He said and held it out for Michael to take.
Michael eyed them up and down and snatched it out their hands. "Remind yo damn friend to give me my share of money next time. I ain't gon' keep remindin' y'all myself." He paused and stuffed the gun back into his pocket." He licked his finger, feeling around on the stack before slowly looking back up.
"This everything?" He asked, cocking a brow and they exchanged looks. "Nigga bounce! It's damn near more than everything." They uttered
Michael showed a tight smile and whipped out his gun again before pointing it at them. "I ain't playin' around. I ain't even gotta count dis to notice it ain't everything. I'a paint the damn walls with y'all ass-" he paused once he heard sirens in the distance and as soon as they all turned their heads and saw police casually circling the block.
Michael glanced at them and then back at the police before taking off running. "I ain't gettin' arrested today." He muttered under his breath before opening his car door and slamming it shut. He took all the money he could and was on his way.
His car began to smell of weed as he blew it out carelessly speeding down the streets. He's also one to not really obey the rules of the road and has received tickets here and there for passing red lights, speeding, or not stopping for pedestrians..
"Aye, King, meet me at the joint later on tonight, ight? I'mma be there." He said into the phone and dropped it back into the cup holder until he finally arrived outside of his grandmother's house.
He slammed his car door shut and walked up the steps of her porch, ringing the doorbell numerous of times before he heard her fussing voice approaching closer and closer. "What I tell you about ringin' my damn bell like that?" She scolded him as he cracked a genuine smile.