{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...
🎶I'd rather not talk about it, just do that shit!"🎶 -carti
Omniscient—
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"Light me up." Michael said, holding out his blunt to be lit up from King who had the lighter. They were on King's porch as always with the absence of Bianca who was back with her friends at Michael's house, hanging out. She insisted of course.
"Stoke's big mad." Uly scoffed, chewing absentmindedly on a red twizzler. "The hell he attackin' you fo? Pop's the one who snitched on y'all."
He was referring to how Stoke never let the grudge go of being locked up at the cost of Michael and Pop. "Right." Michael shook his head. "He should be turnin' on Pop's ass. Reckless as hell. I care bout my house more than anything. Imagine if I wasn't even home." He fumed
"If you weren't home he woulda robbed yo shit." King began to laugh along with Uly who dapped him up but Michael wasn't amused, so they stopped.
Anytime they hung out out in the open, onlookers would spot them and attack. They were never fazed though. Michael blew out the smoke from his blunt casually drifting into his own world. He wasn't one to really get high off of weed and never did it long enough to do so.
King on the other hand is always high, which explains why his speech is lazy. But he handles himself better than others.
"You know them niggas was in ma crib the other day? Michael raised his brow, balancing himself onto the wooden railing of King's porch.
"The ones who took our shit?" King asked
Michael nodded. "Uh huh." He mumbled. "Tryna take Naija back wit' 'em. I ain't let 'em."
Uly nearly whipped his head towards him and raised a brow. "What, you'n want her to leave?" He teased, causing Michael to roll his eyes and blow smoke in his face.
"Nigga ain't shit like that." He shook his head. "They asses jus' shouldn't be treatin' somebody like that, you know what I'm sayin'? The girl was visibly scared out her mind jus' seein' 'em, you know what I'm sayin'?"
"Did you shoot 'em?" King asked and Michael shook his head. "Nah but I shoulda. Shit was pathetic how they was talkin' all that shit in ma crib." He scoffed "And Marshall's big body ass tried to come peacefully. It was tragic."
He swore he only stood up for Naija because of the way they treated her and that she should be somewhere more safe. That was it and that was final.
"Y'all ready now? Goddamn we been sittin' here fa hours." Michael complained, hopping off of the railing before pulling out his gun, standing in the grass.
"Nigga we been here for like 20 minutes." Uly shortly laughed before standing from his seat.
They were planning on having a little fun—and it wasn't always legal. Their idea of fun was shooting, stealing, smoking—doing anything to their delight. Michael was eager to get his hands dirty despite his grandmother's words of being more careful.
