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BRICK BOY MAFIATHE HEART OF THE STREETS
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2012 Mr. Mafia
All right reserved.
Chapter OneGrowing up in the south, there is always something to do. The summers are long and the winters are short. Most states in the south don't get cold.
I was born in a Southern city called Nashville, Tennessee, but all my homeboys like to call it Cashville, Tennakey. Who am I? My name is Russell Readus, but I am known to the streets as Mr. Mafia. I'm the head nigga in charge of the organization called the Brick Boy Mafia, or B.B.M. for short.
My crew and I arrived on the scene a few years after the Feds dismantled the group called Black Mafia Family, or B.M.F. for short. I'm sure that you are thinking in your mind that maybe we are a B.M.F. spin-off, or even a B.M.F. wannabe, but guess what? You are wrong.
As a teenager I always wanted to be a villain or an outlaw, so to speak. The first time I watched the movie Scarface, I instantly knew that I wanted to be the biggest gangster or Kingpin that the world had ever seen.
I knew that I had to be better and smarter than Tony Montana in the movie Scarface. I wanted to be Sosa "The Plug". I wanted to be the shot caller with the money and the power, so I carefully studied the hustlers from my block.
When I turned fourteen years old, I started selling cocaine on my block in my neighborhood. My hood was on the Westside of Nashville, Tennessee. I was born and raised in Preston Taylor housing projects, but we call it P-Town, for short.
I hustled my coke on the section known as "the drive." Almost every block in my hood was a drug area.
There were streets such as the Drive, AKA Presslor Drive, Georgia Court, 4J, Albine, 42nd, 43rd, 44th, Tennessee Village, Clifton Ave, Town Terrace, Skyview, 28th, and 39th.
All these areas made money but none made money like 40th, and the Drive. I used to be a cleanup hustler, one who could only get money when all the heavy weights weren't present.
I would run to cars and short-stop other guys' customers. It was survival of the fittest on my block if you were an underdog. I was well known throughout my neighborhood, because of my two older brothers, Marvin and Eddie Readus.
My brother Marvin caught a couple bodies in 1988, and my brother Eddie had once been a major drug supplier shortly after my brother Marvin was convicted for murder.
Although I was well known in my neighborhood, that wasn't enough. I was still the underdog in my hood. I had to prove myself just like everyone else.
I hustled day in and day out, trying to reach my dreams and goals. I put in long hours in the daytime, and even longer hours at night.
It took me a couple of years to get into a comfortable position but I was moving right along in the direction of buying my first key of coke.
After getting my first key of coke, I became more serious about the game. I dropped out of school in the tenth grade, and started to hustle harder.
At sixteen years old, I bought my first car. It was a 1984 Cutlass Supreme. It was a grey four-door with a blue top, chrome day tons and a chrome 350 engine.
I drove that car several months then finally every police on my side of town knew me and my car. I quickly ran the car hot because I would get into high speed chases almost everyday.
I got tired of jumping out of my car and running from the police, so I painted the car midnight blue and changed the license plates. By the time the cops caught on to my tactics, I bought me a 1986 blue four-door sedan Deville Cadillac.
Although I had two cars, I didn't drive much. I opened me a trap house in the projects and I started supplying the hustlers my age and slightly older hustlers.
Opening the trap house was the best move that I could've made. Within a month or so, I was making more than I had ever seen.
I blew a lot of money on clothes, food, jewelry, and bitches. Every day was a party, and every night it was a different woman in my hotel room.
I was spending money faster than I was making it, but I didn't care, because I was a sixteen year old kid without a care in the world.
Every day that passed by, I became less focused on serious hustling. I became more focused on threesomes and freaking. I quickly discovered that my money was not how it used to be, so I tried to slow down and get back on my grind.
One night, my friend Chris stopped by my mom's house to holla at me. My oldest brother Lester had been drinking. He was drunk beyond drunk.
Once Chris entered my mother's house, my brother Lester jumped into Chris's face, screaming about he was making too much noise.
Lester swung at Chris and missed, so Chris said, man, calm your brother down.
I stepped between them so my brother wouldn't swing again, and I asked him "What is your problem?" He cursed me out and then swung on me.
I quickly blocked his drunken hook and pushed him into the wall. I tried to talk to him, but he was beyond talking to. Before I knew it, he had rushed me, trying to hit me in my face.
I stepped to the side and caught him with a right jab. He ate the blow like it was candy. He asked me, is that all you got? I told him that I didn't want to beat his ass.
He swung on me again, so I gave him a two-piece and put a lot of power behind the second blow.
He ran straight to the telephone and dialed 911.
I snatched the phone from his hands, but it was too late. The operator was already saying 911, what is your emergency? I quickly told her my lil sister was trying to dial 411 and not 911.
The operator informed me that she had already, in fact, dispatched a unit to the residence, and it would be shortly before they arrived. I thanked her and hung up the phone.
I asked Chris, was he dirty? He stated yes, so I told him that he should leave right away. As Chris headed for the door, the police were also headed towards the door.
I cursed under my breath, but told Chris to hurry up and walk out of my mom's house. The police asked me do you live here, so I told them yes. They informed me that they were responding to a 911 call.
I tried to tell them that everything was alright, and that the call was a mistake. The cops told me that they needed to step inside the house and speak with my mom. I didn't want to let them in, so I called my mom from the bottom of the steps while standing at the front door.
My mom wasn't feeling good, so she told me to let the police into the house. They stepped into the house and waited on her to come down the stairs, to see if everything was fine.
After a few minutes she never came, so the cops started walking up the stairs to see if everything was alright. Once at the top of the stairs, the cops knocked on my mom's bedroom door to see if everything was alright.
She explained to the police that she was unaware that 911 had been dialed. She told the police that everything was alright and it was probably a mistake.
As she was talking to one of the cops, the other one started snooping around. He opened my bedroom door and went in. I quickly told him that he wasn't allowed into the room, but he paid me no mind. He opened the closet door and looked upon the shelf, then he looked to the side and that's when he noticed the AK-47. He instantly grabbed his gun and called his partner.
His partner came running into the room and they quickly handcuffed me. They started searching more and found a .357 Magnum and a Glock .45 under the mattress.
One of the officers escorted me to the backseat of the police car while the other one continued to search my room. By the time I was placed into the car, several more police cars pulled up and went into the house.
I sat in the backseat of the police car for what seemed like hours. I noticed my Aunt Linda pulling up behind the police car, so I beat on the window trying to get her attention. Once I did get her attention, she came to the car and asked me, what is going on?
I told her to open the door so I could escape, but she took out running towards the house. The cops tried to stop her, but she stepped into the house, anyway. About ten minutes later, I watched an ambulance pull up. They unloaded a gurney and went into my mother's house. I thought to myself, "What the fuck is going on?"
The paramedics came out with my mom on the stretcher. I started crying because I didn't know what was going on. My Aunt Linda wouldn't tell me what was wrong.
From the backseat of a police car, I watched my mom leave in an ambulance. I was mad with so much anger that I didn't know what to do. I wanted to kick out the window of the police car, but I still wouldn't be able to escape, due to my being handcuffed.
Shortly after the ambulance sped off, the police came out of the house. They stood around talking for a few minutes, then they decided to take me on to Juvenile Detention.
I asked the police repeatedly what did they do to my mom. But they acted as if they didn't know what was wrong. One cop stated that she got sick, while the other one just remained quiet.
I swore that if my mom was hurt due to them, then somebody was going to die. I paid extra attention to both cops' names when they helped me out the car at Juvenile Detention.
The next day when the correctional officer let us out for TV time, I came out to get out of my cell.
As I walked up to the TV area, I noticed all of the chairs already set up in front of the TV.
A few guys asked me, where are you from? And I told them that I was from the Westside, Preston Taylor Projects. I quickly asked them were there any Westside niggas there, and they told me that I was the only one.
I started to sit in one of the chairs, but from behind me, I heard a voice say you can't sit there. I didn't look back, I just went to the next chair over. The voice once again stated that I couldn't sit there.
I asked which seats were available? And the voice said that you can't sit nowhere in here, all Westside niggas got to stand up. Instantly I let the guy know that he had me fucked up, I informed him that I was going to sit in a chair.
The guy stepped up towards me. Instantly we squared off and took out swinging at one another. It only took me about five minutes to beat his ass and about two more before the correctional officer came and locked us down.
Since I was just arriving there the day before, they let me right off of lockdown the following day.
When they let me out for TV, all the guys whistled and cheered as I walked into the TV area.
Six or seven guys instantly crowned me king of the TV room in all of Juvenile Detention. Everybody asked me which seat did I want, so I told 'em that I wanted the seat of the guy ass I whooped.
A few niggas laughed and gave me some dap, but a few didn't seem to like what I said.
Chapter TwoTwo days later, the officer let everyone out for recreation in the gym. I was walking through the gym, heading to the weight room, when I noticed the guy who I beat up and another guy heading my way.
They both looked like they were on some real bullshit, so in my mind I was ready for whatever. Before I could reach the weight room area I heard the guy ask me, "Yo what's up now, bitch ass nigga?"
I instantly got on defense mode, we squared up ready to fight once again. From behind me the other guy sprung on me in the jaw "BANG".
I turned to see what was going on, that's when I noticed that it was the other guy. I ran up towards him and swung but I missed. As I was trying to get at him, I seen the other one coming at me out the side of my eye.
I backed up towards the wall so no one could get behind me, then I told the both of them to come on and get it. They both rushed me at the same time.
I tried to move and swing, but the second guy caught me with a soft tap. I swung back, hitting the first guy quickly. I was pissed off because the second guy had hit me twice and I hadn't gotten him, yet.
I rushed the first guy and gave him a serious uppercut punch to his face. As I had him bent over hitting him in his face the second guy hit me with a two piece.
I let go of the first guy and swung back at the second guy, this time, I caught him with one. As he backed up, the other guy was on his feet, and hitting me in the back of the head.
Before I could turn and get him off of me, the swinging stopped and I heard a voice asking them what was going on? The two guys that I was fighting looked like they had seen a ghost. I turned to see what was going on, then that's when I noticed Wesley. Wesley is my cousin's cousin, they both are from the Eastside.
I first met Wesley when I stayed with my aunt Linda for the summer in Haynes Garden Apartments.
Wesley had one of the guys snatched up and the other one was shaking in his boots. I heard Wesley ask them what were they doing fighting without his permission.
He quickly explained to them that he runs our cellblock and that I was his cousin. Instantly both guys apologized to him but I heard Wesley tell them to apologize to me.
I quickly told Wesley "Fuck that", I want the nigga that he had snatched up. I explained to him that I had already beat the other nigga ass so it was time for the other nigga to get it.
Wesley didn't want it to go any further, but it wasn't an option. The guy had stole on me trying to help the pussy that I had beat the few days before.
Wesley let him go from his grasp and told me that we would shoot the square one. On that note, I beat the guy ass until the Correction Officer showed up and threw the both of us in the hole.
A few days later I got right back out and went looking for Wesley, but he had already left. All the guys in the unit knew what had happened so it wasn't going to be no more problems.
As soon as I got out the first guy was back on his bullshit because for one, Wesley was gone, and for two, he had another one of his homeboys who was down for the cause.
Just as we were ready to get it on in the TV area, I heard a voice from the back of the room say ya'll ain't going to fuck with him. We all turned to see who it was at the same time and I notice that it was a guy named Lil Aaron but we call him Stink.
Stink was from the Eastside also but his cousin HaHa and Roy lives out West. Even though he lives on the East Side today he was "repping" West Nashville.
I was glad to see a familiar face. I instantly sprung on the nigga closes to me and Stink swung on the other guy. Since the nigga I was fighting kept recruiting people to help him, I went ahead and stomped his ass out this time.
I was tired of going back and forth with him and various niggas. Once the Correctional Officers came, they took all of us to the hole.
A couple of staff members told me that I wasn't going to get out because I couldn't stay out of trouble. It was in my file that I had been in three fights within a week's time.
I was mad as shit but I felt good because I really fucked that nigga up. I knew that I would see Stink whenever he came back out on the West Side so I would thank him later.
I sat in the hole a little over a week before my aunt Linda came to sign me out. I was super happy to hear the news of me being released.
When I got to the lobby I expected to see my mom but it was my aunt Linda. I asked her where was my mom, and she told me still in the hospital.
That's when reality set in for me, because due to all of my fighting and me going back and forth to the hole, I had forgotten all about my mom being escorted away in an ambulance.
Once we got into the car, Linda told me that it was serious and she needs to see me right away. I was quiet the whole ride home.
Chapter ThreeSoon as I got home, I was thinking about killing my brother Lester. Because of him, I now had lost every bit of money that I had worked hard to get and my guns and bling.
I strolled through the projects looking for Chris, but instead I found a crackhead named Pride. Pride was the cook-up man for all the hustlers that didn't know how to cook up their product.
He was the best throughout all of the West Side. Before I had went to Juvenile, I had given Pride a gram to go and sell. He was supposed to come back with the money but I never saw him again until I was in the back seat of the police car.
He instantly had fear in his eyes when he saw me. He quickly told me that he got my money. It was only fifty dollars but I was dead ass broke, so that would be a good start for me.
Pride told me that when he saw me in the police car and watched them take all of the guns and money out of my mom's house, he said that he knew that he couldn't let me down. He told me that he had to rob Peter to pay Paul.
He reached into his pocket and counted out fifty dollars and gave it to me. At that very moment, I wanted to hug him. Who would have ever thought a crackhead would be my savior?
Excerpted from BRICK BOY MAFIA by MAFIA Copyright © 2012 by Mr. Mafia. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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