Materialistic Niggas And The Hoes Who Love Them

By Collette Wells

Growing up in the projects is hard for young kids, The constant struggle forces them into a life of crime and dis honor. Money comes with a price, and sometimes that price might just be your life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Collette Wells
• Release date: Oct 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301866441

Collette Wells

Hi, Im Collette Wells and Writing is my passion. I love to Read and I love to help others

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Materialistic Niggas And The Hoes Who Love Them

By Collette Wells

Smash Words Edition

Copy Right 2013 Collette Wells

Smash Words Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

Dewayne (D-man)

Growing up in the projects was always hard for a nigga. I have seen shit that some soft niggas only see in the movies, I have seen niggas get killed over money and bitches, I have seen family members strung out on dope. They ass will sell their own baby to get a hit, so I know the streets and the streets know me. I can’t say that I didn’t deserve all the bad shit that has happened to me, cus then a nigga would be lying and I keep it 100. To know exactly what I have been through a nigga would have to start from the beginning, so get ya drank, and ya weed and chill as I take you through the life of Dewayne D-man Jackson. Born on December 30, 1987 in Chicago IL, my moms had her only child on the floor of the Robert Taylor projects where she lived. 4950 s. State Street to be exact on the south side of the chi. This would be the building that molded me into the nigga that I am today.

I didn’t have shit when we were growing up, moms was on public aid so we had food stamps, and we barely got by on that shit. Food never lasted because her and her drunk boyfriend would get high and eat the shit up. All my ass had to eat sometimes was mayonnaise and bread. Shit was hard! My nothing ass father got killed by the police before I was born. According to moms, he was a heavy drug dealer and had killed over 30 niggas who had crossed him. He was the drug lord of the projects, he controlled everything, and got respect from everyone, his name was Marcus Mac 10 Jackson. Moms said he owned up to his nickname very well. Mac and my mom met when they were teenagers, mac was selling drugs on the corner and my mom was his hoe. She made sure he ate well, had a clean crib, and she never crossed him. Mac use to beat my moms so bad that she told me one day he punched her hard in the face that he broke her jaw. She said that the reason he punched her was because he thought she had stolen from his stash, and come to find out he had smoked some of his own shit when he was drunk.

I asked my moms why she never left this bitch ass nigga, she said because he was all she had and even though he treated her like shit, he took care of her. Mac was a part of a gang well known around the projects call the Vulture City gang". They were a group of niggas who stopped at nothing to get money, and would kill anyone or anybody who stood in their way. May of 1987 my moms found out she was 2 months pregnant with me, she wasn’t showing so my father had no idea he was going to be a father in 7 months. When my moms finally told him she was pregnant, he told her to get an abortion because having a baby would ruin his reputation. He didn’t even think it was his anyway. Moms said she was terrified of mac and that I was most definitely his because she was too scared to cheat on him. She went ahead and told him she was getting an abortion just to shut him up, but she knew deep down inside that she wasn’t doing it. The only way moms could keep me without this nigga finding out was if she dropped at dime on him, in other words set him up. So one night in May of 1987, my moms called the police and told them she had on hit on Marcus Mac 10 Jackson. She didn’t reveal her identity, she requested to remain anonymous. The police jumped right on this because they had been trying to catch him for years for murders and drug dealing. It was perfect timing because my mom knew by then that he would be in front of the building talking to his crew. Two plain clothes policeman walked up to him and asked could they get a sack from him, now mac wasn’t a dumb nigga he knew cops when he saw them, he played it cool and walked off.

The police tried to search him and when they did they found his weed stash and a gun on him.Mac punched one of the officers and knocked him out, he ran on foot and tried to cut the corner into the alley. The other officer caught up with him by the end of the alley and told him to get down on the ground. This nigga reached in his pocket for his nine, and the officer let off nine rounds in his chest. All the while this shit went down my mom was looking out the window of her third floor apartment, she told me that she was relieved that this nigga was dead, but deep down inside she had regretted it because she was really in love with him. From the day she had me up until now she has been blaming me and telling me it’s my fault he’s dead. So as you can see that’s why I’m fucked up now.

The word around the projects was that everyone knew my moms was behind his murder, they knew mac was too smart of a nigga to get caught slippin by the police. They never said anything because she was still mac’s girl and they had respect for her. I grew up without a father to teach me about life, women, etc. so I pretty much just learned from the streets. Moms didn’t care what I did, she slept, drank, and smoked all day and night. The no good niggas she had coming through the crib all day and night didn’t want shit from her but her food stamps and her sex. Now I wouldn’t say I hated her because I didn’t, even though we didn’t have shit she kept a ruff over my head, but that was it. With my moms being on drugs she wasn’t in tune with reality, so I didn’t start school until the age of seven. She only put me in school because by us being on food stamps we were in the system DCFS ( Department of Children and Family Services) so they checked the records and seen I wasn’t in school and they made her put me in. School was the only place I could go to at least get a decent meal.

I tried my best to go to breakfast at least 3 times before the ugly ass lunch lady turned me around. The schoolwork was always hard for me because I couldn’t read or write, the kids teased me and in return I would get into fights and cause trouble in the classroom. By the time I was fifth teen I had been suspended more than a dozen times, the principle threatened to kick me out if I didn’t shape up, my mom never came to any of the parent teacher conferences. I was fifth teen in the eighth grade. I’d given up trying to graduate so I dropped out of school and started running the streets hustling. It wasn’t hard for me to get in the drug game because niggas knew my pops, and they looked at me as his legacy. I started hanging around this OG named big Jeff, he was a part of the Vulture City gang and had been down with my pops heavy. He showed me how to sale, distribute, and get niggas to respect me. In no time I had fat pockets, fresh ass clothes, and hoes on my dick like flies on shit. The money made me feel like I had power over people, I was the man, I had money and I could do wateva I wanted. I moved out my moms crib and had my own spot in the projects. My shit was laid out too, I had the best furniture, white carpet, TV’s, stereos, and I even put mirrors on my ceilings. I had the most rawest crib in the projects, hoes would beg me to take them out and spend dough on them, D-man aint never going out like that, money over bitches is my motto, so I just fuck them and send their dirty asses on their way. This one chic named Latoya was a psycho bitch, she would call my cell all times of the night telling me she loved me and she wanted to have my baby. I only fucked her twice and the