Juici Couture & the Suga-Hill Gang

Juici Couture & the Suga-Hill Gang

by Kenny Attaway &. G. English Rock


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781491840214
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 12/04/2013
Pages: 342
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.76(d)

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juici couture & the sugahill gang

By Kenny Attaway


Copyright © 2013 Kenny Attaway's/ghetto english rock's
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4918-4021-4


"the sad start"

Life's a bitch or do we make a bitch our life? Point blank. But god forbid the bitch cross me, leave me or deceive me, but shit happens and bitches and will deceive you too, but that was over ya head!!. In my hard withered and fucked up life a bitch became more than a nasty trick, disrespectful chick or a pregnant dog. A bitch became man. My man became a bitch. Not just any ole man, but my man. REAL man could never be anyone's bitch. Not the kind of bitch that toggles at your knees, bite your ankles, shit in your yard and that's after your feed, the kind that gossip or cat up on me, but no kind of bitch.... At least I thought. I'd never think for a second I'd give my heart to a bitch, my soul to a bitch, let a bitch fuck me, desert me or mistreat me. In my past life I laughed at bitches, disrespected bitches and did everything possible not to become a bitch. But the world is made up of bitches and at one point and time in everyone's life it becomes just that; a bitch ... a cold rotten, backstabbing, unforgiving, uncontrolled substance thing or ism that god sometimes don't understand. BITCH! For the sake of time and getting on with my life or my bitch, I will abbreviate the pain and slow up the rain. Sometimes I rhyme when I talk, other times I just cry, but it's not my fault; my life is a bitch. It does whatever it wants to me. What would you do when your brightest light turns dark and your last candle is afraid of flame it is the fire or candle you blame. But anyways, before I formally introduce you to my bitch ... life, man or whatever, I I'd prefer to introduce you a shitty little ex pup (my ex) or K-9 mutts Cougar.

Cougar was a rotten no good motherfucker originally from somewhere in Alabama or one of those other BAMA ass shit holes in the deep south that rats, mice and other wild shit they crawl in and out of the shit traps in search of love hate or hate love. Before being chopped down to a mini midget of a man, Cougar was a tall ghetto missing tooth motherfucker that covered it up with a buncha overpriced as grills. He was a fly dressing red Cadillac painting, young girl getting player that loved to trick his favorite girls and cars out in the best "shoes" money could buy. But with more than a few deals gon bad and caught more than few times scheming he was retired and downsized to a pair of size 22 chrome shoes (wheelchair). He was a real money getter/pussy digger. Bitches loved his mink cuts (his wavy hair) and deep dick strokes. Word on the street was that he played with 11 inches of dick and few pounds of balls to go with it your order. Cougar was Ishmael aka Sandman's right hand man before he was left paralyzed from being shot up in a coke/heroin deal gone bad and other gang of shit that nobody knows about but Cougar and the hell boys that kicked him in his ass with chrome shoes. Those hell-boys left him to die on the steps of his mother's house. Drug dealers in the hood life fall off all the time; especially after jail or prison. Those cold corners don't hug none of those sucka for love ass niggaz back when they come home from that big belly bitch (life's a bitch) expecting a kiss, some ass, cash or being treated the way the use to be treated. Sadly, that corner dun fell in love with those new hell boys that set up shop, keeps her pussy wet and tingling and brag about her with pride. Those cold corners don't give a fuck about the old guy.... "your old news and every motherfucker knows that old papers go in the can. And old men rarely wear the right jackets/coats on those cold corners." Cougar's downfall started a lot before he found a corner or setup shops with Ishmael. Like most sidewalk executives, Cougar's momma or dead beat ass gave a fuck about him. He was raised by his father's second wife Elba, who was a hash and heroin junky, but loved Cougar or at least thought she did. Elba like many scorned bitches wanted to prove a point to his dad's third wife that she was "that bitch" and could hold a house and man down better than she could. Nevertheless his dad was fucking both bitches and saying FUCK YOU TOO (like fuck you too) to both babies; Cougar and his half-brother Max were later raised by the streets. But when the dad's a drug dealer/user and the mothers are hash and heroin addicts; she could only birth a few bags of hash harlots with optimum eyes and a cracked heart. The hood and the rest of the world refer to them as crack babies. I am not preaching, just some shit in right from the start. And in the hood a fucked-up start most times leads to a fucked ending.

I am not a holy chick at all and only skipped over a few psalms when my grandma nudged my face into the bible when she and I were in the Church of Righteous Pastures. She always say the bible is basic instruction before leaving earth. But depending or your religion and decision; maybe it's just a beautifully written folktale that continues to BS billions. But of all the times I missed church or used the place to just please grandma/grandpa I always respected the page where it says the children will have to revisit the sins of their fathers came to be so GODDAMN true for Cougar's fate. Can you relate? Shit happens to the good and bad. Sometimes lighting strikes no one in particular; just whatever spot you standing in could lead to you being struck. Anyone from a drug dealer to a priest could get hit. But on with things.... On a rainy cold evening while a few of Ishmael's mutts or dogs with no bites were bagging work and spreading pizza he was forced to ask me to pick up a few thousand from one of his slumlords, Cougar. Sandman would always refer to workers and buffers (money collectors) and the bigger G's as slumlords or spokespersons for the corner, hash house or whatever made money under his umbrella. Cougar and I were never friends, close associates or anything between, but was cordial and respected each other's element or position of powder (yes powder). Although I was the "Bosses Bitch" and he was "just" the slumlord.... most of knew the power and understanding of the streets Cougar once held in its right pocket right next to his dick. Cougar taught Ish the game, set him up his first real piece of pussy, with his first good car and set him up with his first brick of coke and later a ring of keys; janitor style. For a long while he remained in the dark shadows of Cougar, being his sucker boy, side kick while sticking dick to Ish's then main chick. He hated Cougar for it, but if it wasn't for Cougar force feeding dick to my man's ex bitch, he and I would have never met (thanks for nothing Cougar). Long story short, before Ishmael became the Sandman "the don" or any of that other shit he claimed to be he was just a skinny bucked tooth yellow fucker that knew how to count money and hustle a dollar into 20G's overnight and bitches knew it. He was a lollipop G that was liked by the streets. Not many of the 26-34-26's were impressed with his then bucked ass goat teeth or mechanical Billy goat walk, but his first real love Gina. Gina was a drug's dealers dream. She was streetwise, hood classy, eyes of blue emeralds and had the prettiest face in the hood, but like all bitches in the game ... she wanted that cheese and dough quickly. At that point in time ... when he was a "standup" dude he owed the block, community and every corner and every sidewalk executive's bitch that worked for him. Gina and Ishmael had genuine love so he thought ... but Cougar's power, swagger and ball juice proved differently. In a heated private argument between the two ... Cougar exposed to Ishmael to the truth that he had been fucking Gina for over three years, and for two of them she was Ish's girl. Ishmael was crushed. He burned up all her clothes, attempted to slash her face with keys and blow up the LEXUS coup he brought for her, but did nothing to Cougar, but bowed his head to his street majesty, but what would you do. Can't do shit with a kingpin, but watch him, adore him and hope someday to be him. In those days fucking with Cougar meant tongue kissing the barrel of an UZI, swallowing a grenade, sucking on a blade of a knife and burying your family if you played him to close for comfort. That fucker had power. HAD!

After a few stints in prison, a love affair with the pancake & syrup romance, losing his legs for chrome shoes and fucking up millions of dollars; those cold hearted corners that he once owned gave him a middle finger in the ass and a hard disrespectful fuck and the WE ARE DONE TALK (the streets). He adored her and still has several tats to prove it. A big part of me hated Cougar for his fast talk country ass ways, but another loved him for bringing Sand to my beach (he broke up he and Gina) Nevertheless, being a "ride or die bitch" has its good points, but bad ones too. Being "down for whatever" has to be proven. It's usual for a kingpin to directly involve his bitch in his shit, but sometimes "you gotta ride and do wild crazy shit to prove you that BITCH or That Nigga; in these streets everyone on edge and thinks the other motherfucker is a snitch. I always assumed since the Gina incident I would have always had to prove myself to Ish ... for he trusted no one. He always had somebody watching somebody. He had a lawyer for his lawyer, bitches watching other bitches and had trust issues with his heart, mind, body and soul (always separated them). In his hustler's manual; you'd never allow your heart to rule over your mind. When he asked me make a few pickups I assumed it was just out of frustration of not being able to trust a slumlord or buffer or simply a test trust for me. The sky was thickening with clouds, the wind picking up, but he needed and wanted his pizza from Cougar. "OK baby ... I will make the pickup" Driving 30 minutes uptown was bad enough, fucking up my $200 hairdo from the wind was bad, but meeting up with a wheelchair riding fucker with stinky breath, an attitude and still talking about what he "used to do, be, drive, fuck and live at was 1000 times worse. After waiting more than 15-20 minutes in a company car with broken windows; which left me soaked I was furious with the rain, my fucked up do, Ishmael and especially the paraplegic rat face fucker. "Cougar where's the motherfucker money?" You bullshitting and a bitch got to get home" "Hold the fuck up Juice, I think the flying pigs landed in a pig's play pin. Back in the early days I'd turn these flying pigs into a motherfucking breakfast sandwich, but these chrome shoes gotta nigga stranded on death row." Now wet and irate ..." "Cougar you not making no fucking sense and I am feeling really funny about the night for some strange reason. You stalling and over-talking. Handover the shit and let me be on my way ... It's cold, dark and this heavy drizzle in turning into drenching fuck n rain". Hold tight and let's wait a few moments before I give you anything. How was your day?" "Cougar fuck all of that. I need the pizza right now. You stalling too motherfucker much, I hope you isn't up to no-good cause Ishmael will fit the rest of your family in some matching chrome shoes and then you could have other motherfuckers to roll around with you if you playing. I a bitch got to keep it pushing "Damn Juice you a mean ass decrepit bitch for saying some shit like that. Now handing over the money with a frown "That's $25,000 and Sandman knows the other $10,000 is for re-up. "What re-up, I was supposed to get $35,000 from you and I am not leaving till all 35,000 dead motherfuckers are in this bag" "Look you dumb non-hearing complicated bitch for nothing. I already explained to you that the other bread and cheese is to make bigger slices of pizza and set up Dominos all up this motherfucker.... Stop yapping so motherfucker much ... you stinking the air with ya bullshit. That's the problem with your dumb bitches all you know is the flapping of your lips. If you flapping the bottom ones from fucking ... you squirting other shit with the top ones. Shut the fuck up and listen sometimes. You might finally learn something dumb ass bitch".

I assumed Cougar was drunk, intoxicated off his pain killers, fed up with Sandman's right hand mutt shit, mad about his "downfall" and becoming peasant to the KING or if slipped on his pride in the rain and ready to die and wanted me to take part in the killing. But for the rest of my life I'd always hear the echoes of "Why you acting like you that top chick or the real bosses bitch. Just like me you are Sandman's right hand flunky. Only difference between you and I is that he's fucking you in all positions, and fucking me financially, but you in love with the tampon wearing ass fucker, I'm not. What motherfucker kingpin drug dealer you know has his main bitch/wifey collecting his dough and meeting up with niggars in strange places where rats and mice shit and piss at. Huh bitch. You ain't shit, but his main sideline hoe that ain't watching the game right. Are you a cheerleader, baller or motherfucker fan/spectator like all the other dumb goat mouth bitches that want a drug lord dick in their mouth Think about where he takes you to eat, fuck and shop at" Those words always had a hold on me for whatever reason and I could only respond with a few bullshit words that didn't mean shit to a dead man that was ready and willing to die. "You always calling somebody or something a bitch. You the bitch motherfucker that's not walking ... talk that tough Tony shit to the nigger that took you out of those ugly ass gators and put you in the chrome shoes for life. You hurt and mad at the game because ain't shit and nothing in this level of the game...." You just talking shit because the truth hurts ... You not even balling in the game, you a sideline ho cheerleader ass side chick. Deal with it and enjoy the game ... I am no love hater ... I will bring you some popcorn and beer to help enjoy the game, but you a cheerleader ... So Coug will get ya dumb ass some fresh pom poms and I am not a player, but now a coach. What part of the game you belong to or play for" Hurt and angered I pulled out Keisha kool (22 pistol) from my JC bag and was more than ready to empty all of her hardcore kisses into his lifeless ass cruddy body, but his words had already emptied on me and left a chick cold, shaken and broken. I died for the moment and no one or nothing was available for the funeral and viewing but Cougar's stink n ass and god's eyes. What a place to die at ... a deserted ass alley where rats, snakes and hell boys set up shop and where the rock stars play their guitars and bagpipes at. Where's god when you need him? As the winters of my mind hit sub below zero I could see his cold body shake and snake skin shed right before me. The corners of his emotion and salvia of his tongue was freezing up as his words formed icicles. No matter what lines or mean words I conjured up to blast back had no effect.

"What the fuck are you talking about Cougar?" I responded in a face-full of tears. "It's just like I said sideline ho ... you standing there with a little ass 22 readying to shoot a niggar because he hurt your feeling. How many times Sandman hurt ya motherfucking feelings so mother-fucking what, but did you pull a gun out on him?" (Now tearing up) "Coug ... tell me what the fuck you know or I am popping off ..." "That's snitching; so I ain't saying shit, but as for the other $10,000 the shit is invested in pizza shops (other corners) to make his cheese and dough stretch, but Sandy already knows that. Don't take the bitches and sideline ho shit personal. Life can be a traitor and painful for even kings and queens. Look how the devil did god. No one has a bulletproof soul. I am riding around in chrome shoes as you tell it, but I ain't pitching a bitch. I am getting ready for hell, but trust with all your heart the devil and I will have plenty bitches to eat /drink and smoke with and bitches to fuck and get head from. Take these 25G's, but take a G off or two and get a top notch shit Juicy Couture shit is for second class bitches. You know Wednesday ... Thursday laundry or let me run to store with right quick bag I been in the game a long while. I'd never had my main bitch sporting that corny ass factory glue together Wong-tong made as bags. Those aren't top echelon bags ... Like I said peep where you eat at, fuck at and shop at and even where and what your boss man (sarcasm) has you eating, doing and wearing" Holding back tears was a motherfucker, but time was ticking, flying pigs were ready to land and Ishmael was expecting the $35,000 in an hour and to be able to TRUST ME (I assumed). Cougar defiantly sense he was dying soon and simply didn't give a fuck about having earth spread over his face. He didn't have the courage to kill himself, but instead murdered a few innocent bystanders in the progress; like my feelings. Three days later Cougar was found riddled with 17 shots with is "chrome shoes" lying next to him upside down. The hit men left $5,000 worth or ripped up dollar bills was stuffed in his eyelids, asshole and ears, but a large chuck of cheese stuffed in his mouth. The police nor anyone else cared or did anything about for a awhile. To the cold unforgiving streets Cougar was a snitch, rat, fag-boy and all other low-life shit. For not only was he a snitch for telling on other motherfucker's to lessen his jail time (rumor), but a snitch for telling me the truth and a hater for losing his power to his onetime errand boy Ishmael/ Sandman. Sandman doubted every inch of the "truth" ratted out by Cougar."


Excerpted from juici couture & the sugahill gang by Kenny Attaway. Copyright © 2013 Kenny Attaway's/ghetto english rock's. 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.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents


01 beautiful heart, & criminal minded, 1,
02 kisses from the barrel-house, 14,
03 godfather's wife buried alive, 23,
04 suga hands & sweet triggers, 51,
05 the cup-cake culture, 74,
06 exotic birds flying through the city, 94,
07 a militant romance, 119,
08 guns, butter, hugs and drugs (addictions), 136,
09 hard kandi, 159,
10 "raw suga", 184,
11 blueberry waffles in a plastic bag, 210,
12 breakfast at tiffany's, 234,
13 milkshakes in a snow storm, 256,
14 last of the dying breed, 283,
15 sweet-nothings, 321,

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juici couture & the suga-hill gang 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 2 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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