The Holy Trap Scriptures

By Ronnie Bo

Jesus stated, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." Jesus's mission was not to commit suicide to wash away our sins as Christianity has taught. Jesus's mission was to build the 'Body of Christ' by uniting his people under a belief system based on faith, understanding, forgiveness, gratitude, truth, enlightenment and freedom.

Jesus practiced what he preached. He lead by example. In John 14:12 Jesus declared, "the one who believes in me will also do the works that I have done and even greater things." And as a true believer in Christ, with this book, “I’m striving to do what Jesus did and even greater things.”

Jesus was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. I, Ronnie Bo, was sent only to the heart of the ghetto known as 'The Trap’.

The Trap Culture in modern days are the most influential people in the world.. And now, god has blessed The Trap Culture with spiritual scriptures and a prophet of their kind that will truly cultivate liberty and justice for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Sep 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483457871

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BO

Copyright © 2016 Ronnie Bo Martin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-5786-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-5787-1 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 06/06/2017

CONTENTS

Authors Note

Preface

Foreword

Chapter 1: The Dope Game

Chapter 2: Judicial System

Chapter 3: Sex

Chapter 4: Dysfunctional Families

Chapter 5: Substance Abuse

Chapter 6: Education & Employment

Chapter 7: The Media

Chapter 8: Psychology

Chapter 9: Religion

Chapter 10: Divided Communities

Conclusion

Special Dedications

Final Word

Proposition

The Vitro

About the Author

I will raise up for them a prophet among their brothers who they could relate to. I will put my words in his mouth, and he will tell them everything I command. I will hold accountable whoever does not listen to my words that he speaks in my name.

-Deuteronomy 18:18-19 (BWV)

AUTHORS NOTE

With all due respect to the brothers and sisters of the struggle who take offense to the word nigga, I humbly ask you to excuse me for some of the terminology that I will be using as expressions in this book. Please acknowledge that this book was written and designed specifically to reach out to those who consider themselves street niggas. However, the knowledge, wisdom and understanding in which this book contains is essential to enlighten all of our men, women and children, and to replenish black civilization as a whole.

To whites and other non-blacks, this literature will help you understand our uncivilized nation of blacks. With this understanding you could then empathize with our struggle. With understanding and love we will all be able to communicate harmoniously with each other and unite humanity as a whole without prejudice.

I encourage all whites and other non blacks to have the courage and faith to do what I am doing with this book which is to represent the courage, the faith and the characteristics of Christ by providing your culture with the way, the truth and the light of redemption as a revolutionist who’s willing to die for the revolution. Then and only then, the world could put an end to racism and other indifferences that only causes hatred, division, conflict and war.

People change. Perspectives change. Reality changes. A solution that resolves a problem today may not work tomorrow. I am constantly growing mentally, emotionally and spiritually just as I will teach you to do. Therefore, my personality and perspectives may change some day in regards to some of my insinuations in this book.

DISCLAIMER: I am not a gang member. I am not attempting to recruit any gang members to any gang. I am not a drug dealer and I am not teaching anyone how to be a drug dealer. I have not sold drugs since I was convicted for cocaine distribution back in 2005. All implications in this book are only my own personal views and opinions. Neither I nor the publisher is responsible for anyones actions that may be taken from a possible misunderstanding of this literature. I am not suggesting anyone to indulge in crime. The motive however is to prevent crime. The events and characters depicted in this book are fictitious. Although each story told in this book were inspired by true events any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My intentions with this publication is to promote peace, freedom, justice and equality. And to ultimately inspire the entire urban community to abide by the law as citizens of the United States Of America while avoiding the many traps set before us by the secret government.

PREFACE

THE TRAP: a concept that originated in the ATL and was made cosmopolitan by some of Atlanta’s most prominent hip hop superstars such as T.I., Young Jeezy, Gucci Mane, Future and others. This concept is used to make references to the urban neighborhoods of a town where drugs are primarily sold, where street hustling is conducted, and where gunplay is conventional. But why do we call it The Trap?

Perhaps, many great men, Larry Hoover, Jeff Fort, Tookie Williams, Big Meech, Lil’ Earl, Andreas McCoats, and more, have all taken a fall as a result of failing to avoid The Trap. This book is both entertaining and enlightening. It is a guide that will awaken Black Americans all over the nation so that they become aware of the many traps that were created by the the secret government to destroy black civilization and to keep us physically and psychologically in bondage. We are trapped in America with felonies because we are denied passports after certain felony convictions.

The author of this book, Ronnie Bo, is an independent rapper/known drug dealer from Milwaukee Wisconsin who has also taken many falls as a result of failing to avoid The Trap. Lyrically, he is like a mixture of Tupac and Eminem but with his own unique style. Since the age of twelve, Ronnie Bo has been in and out of group homes, juvenile prison facilities, and adult prison facilities on cocaine and firearm related charges. I guess it’s safe to say that Ronnie Bo had to learn the hard way why the urban communities are referred to as The Trap.

God works in mysterious ways. And critics may debate my claim. However, this book is definitely divine. It is the trap niggas bible. The messages that are delivered by this book will cultivate your conscious, inspire unity amongst our people, and ultimately establish peace, freedom and justice within the urban communities throughout the nation. The election of our great successor Barack Obama was very inspirational. It indicated significant progress for equality. But it did not present the end of racial injustice for blacks in America. This book will.

Each chapter is broken down into five segments. 1) Introduction: the opening of each chapter, 2) Epitome: delineating The Trap using metaphoric images, 3) Experience: Ronnie Bo shares his own stories/experiences regarding The Trap, 4) Enlightenment: information, observation, and research about The Trap. You must do your own research on and meditate on each subject of Enlightenment to produce and consume the divine food for thought seeded in it. You must also discuss each Enlightenment among your people to build upon the understanding. And 5) Extrication: wise ways to avoid, overcome and disentangle yourself from The Trap.

So, open your mind, study this guide, and witness for yourself why gangsters and hustlers nationwide call Ronnie Bo, ‘The Savior of The Streets’.

FOREWORD

The knowledge, wisdom and understanding hereby contained in this book is virtual food for your mind and spirit. A newborn baby cannot chew or digest a steak and therefore should not be fed certain foods such as steak. And a person who is not well developed mentally will not be able to digest the food for thought contained in this book because they are still babies in the mind.

Furthermore, the elite group who controls all worldly operations will kill to withhold this insight from you. And with that said, please acknowledge the fact that I am risking my life to deliver this divine message to you. You must also acknowledge that I was not sent to lead you. I was only sent to serve you. To provide the light that will guide trap niggas out of the trap. And if it is Gods will for me to sacrifice my own life to save the streets, then I am ready and willing to die for the cause.

A friend of mines (an elderly white man) who was formerly a FreeMason affirmed to me that I would likely become a target of the secret government once this book is published. He forewarned me how huge of a risk that I’m taking by presenting this divine message to you and he advised me not to stick my neck out. And I believe that he was genuinely just looking out for my safety.

See, all white people are not racist or out to ruin us. Some of them even risked their own lives to liberate blacks from slavery. Some of them compassionately care. So, although this book may be considered pro-black from an immature minded person, I just want the world to know that as a person, I am not pro-black. A pro-black perspective may have been necessary in the past but not in this generation. However, the healthy don’t need to be healed, the sick do. And whites are not the ones who need to be healed mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Blacks are. As a wise man once said, its much bigger issues in the world, I KNOW! But I first have to take care of the world I know.

Chapter 1

THE DOPE GAME

Anytime you’re black and you got a little power,

and you’re trying to be successful and you got

money, just for some reason… here they come.

-BIG MEECH

The game was good in the beginning. Well, at least I thought it was. I was only eleven years old when I first jumped off the porch. And to be honest, I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into. As most black youth are raised, I had no father figure. Although mama tried her best, her financial state was insufficient for my ambition. So yeah, I picked up the sack and stopped playing with toys.

There were two individuals in the hood who I looked up to at the time, ‘D-Act’ and ‘Willie G’. ‘D-Act’ was the neighborhood Dope Man. He had the money, the power, the cars, the hoes, and everybody respected him. He was a true Trap Star and he was the smoothest nigga that you could ever meet. He drove a new school Cadillac Eldorado which was the hottest whip in the city at the time. He was the first nigga in the city to pull out with the flipping paint job. D-Act was that nigga. Willie G on the other hand was more of a goon. He was about that pistol play. Sadly, D-Act died at the young age of twenty-six and Willie G is serving a life sentence in prison.

I was always warned that the Dope Game is a path that leads to prison or an early grave. And even after witnessing what happened to D-Act and Willie G, I still followed behind their footsteps anyway. I guess sometimes you just have to learn the hard way. Yeah, playing with fire was fun until I got burnt. As a young adventurous kid, the Dope Game was no more than that to me… a game. But after a few prison bids, I realized that it was all one big trap.

EPITOME

In the game of chess, there is only one way you could win which is by checkmate. It’s not about how many pieces you gain. It’s not about how many pieces you lose. The object of the game is to win and that’s the only thing that matters. An ignorant chess player would succumb to bait without thinking ahead and evaluating the consequences. A sophisticated chess player is prudent and uses discretion move after move to elude defeat. If fish were aware that there was a hook behind the worm, then the fisher probably wouldn’t be able to catch them. Be prudent, and use discretion so that you could preconceive The Trap which is the hook behind the bait.

The Dope Game is very similar to the chess game. All of the materialistics that we desire; the whips, the rims, the jewels, the expensive clothes, etc., is all bait. Typically, we succumb to the bait because of our passion to impress women, or to prove ourselves superior to other men. The abundance or value of any and everything that you could possibly gain is insignificant if it doesn’t give you a real advantage on the board. And when we take the bait, we meet our fate (prison or an early grave).

EXPERIENCE

As I previously indicated in the introduction of this chapter, I was eleven years old when I initially jumped off the porch. My pops had already walked out of my life when I was nine years old and my mama wasn’t around enough to monitor me because she worked a full time job at Walgreens, second shift, from 3:00PM-11:00PM, Monday through Friday. I went to school from 7:00AM-3:00PM, Monday through Friday, so while I was at school, moms was at home resting, and by the time school let out, she was punching in at work. And by the time she got off work, I was supposed to be in bed sleep according to her rules. These conditions left me without parental guidance which was like a privilege to me because I was the only kid in the hood out of all my peers who could do whatever the fuck I wanted to do. My peers had to be in the house by the time the street lights came on which was their curfew. Me, on the other hand, I just had to be in the house before moms made it in from work. She used to order me and my older brother ‘Woodz’ to be in the house much earlier than that but how would she know whether we abided by any of her rules or not?

My brother was just a few years older than I was. We didn’t really associate with each other too much back then. We were always as close as brothers could be but he hung out with his peers and I hung out with mines when we were kids. Being that I had the house to myself most of the time, I would allow the neighborhood dope boys to come over to manufacture their product. I used to watch them cook it, and they would usually pay me five dollars for bagging it up for them. This may seem ironic, but as an eleven year old kid, assisting the neighborhood dope boys by packaging their product was fun and exciting for me. It made me feel important as if I was apart of something big. Sometimes, the dope boys would leave me with their guns to stash for them which made me feel even more important and a bit formidable as well. As I began to realize that they made large amounts of money at a very fast pace. I became curious and inquired information from them about what I seen them doing until I learned how to weigh it, how to price it and how to sell it.

After I became aware that the corner cut bags that I had been packaging for my dope boy associates was worth ten dollars each, I began plotting on a way to make more than five dollars because five dollars was only enough to buy junk food everyday and I wanted more. I wanted name brand clothes like the dope boys wore. I wanted to be able to walk around with a big bank roll like the dope boys. I guess it’s safe to say, I wanted to be a dope boy.

The scheme that I came up with to acquire what I desired was to pocket a few bags every time they would hire me to bag up, without them ever noticing a crumb missing. My scheme was executed successfully and I accumulated about ninety rocks within a month or so. At first I was kind of timid about selling those rocks because for 1) I didn’t want the dope boys to have even the slightest clue that I had been stealing from them, and 2) they used to condemn me for skipping school, so I could just imagine their reaction if they found out that I was selling dope. And besides, who was I gon’ sell the shit to?

One day, I was like, fuck it, and I finally tried my luck. Considering that the cluckers might be skeptical about buying dope from an eleven year old kid, I knew that I had to come up with some type of decoy to entice them. So I presented offers to them that they couldn’t refuse. Not only was I the only little boy in the hood with dope, but I was the only dope boy who had ten dollar rocks on sale for three dollars. Shid, it was all profit for me, anyway. The cluckers initially suspected that I was selling dummy bags. But after a few free samples, it was on and poppin’.

Just as I had expected, problems began to arise. I tried to remain subtle and conduct my hustle covertly but it wasn’t long before what I was doing in the dark came to the light. After a while, I really didn’t give a fuck though. The old school dope boys attempted to shut me down and run me off the block but the younger dope boys, those who I allowed to stash their guns and bag up their dope at my home, they thought that it was hilarious that I was trying to get my grind on and they advocated me anytime I was approached by those who opposed me. D-Act was the head of the hood and he knew exactly what I was doing. D-Act never had anything to say about it so what anybody else had to say about it really didn’t concern me. My biggest problem was that once I ran out of dope, I had no way to re-up because nobody would sell me any at the time because of my age. The good thing is that nobody ever questioned where I was getting my dope from. Well, at least not until everyone’s sacks started coming up missing. Yeah, I intrigued on yet another scheme.

Plenty of drug traffic came through the hood daily back then, and therefore, the police used to patrol the hood faithfully. The dope boys used to conceal their sacks in paper towels, potato chip bags, and those little 25 cent gum wrappers. Then they would stash their sacks on the side of a neighbor’s house or either they would leave their sacks somewhere on the curve close enough to keep an eye on it, but distant enough to where they wouldn’t get busted if the police was to jump out on them (as the police frequently did). So at this point, my scheme was to plot on all the dope boys who sold rocks and watch where they stashed their sacks at so that I could sneak and steal their sacks while they weren’t paying attention.

I primarily watched this nigga named Wayne because he played me out of fifty dollars before when I tried to buy a sixteenth from him, and basically there was nothing that I could do about it at the time. He was nineteen and I was eleven, and I knew I couldn’t whoop him so my way of getting revenge on him was to steal his sacks. One day, he slipped, and I got his ass for forty rocks. I remember that moment vividly. The rocks were stuffed inside of a Winter Fresh Gum pack. And I didn’t stop there. After that I hit lick after lick. These licks became my main hustle. I think I just might be the reason why niggaz started carrying their sacks with them- right in the ass crack [lol].

As time went by (days, months, and years), the OG’s in the hood not only began to accept me, but they also began to respect me. I was admired by all of my peers and even feared by most of them because I was the only youth in my age bracket who sold drugs, toted guns, and didn’t have anyone to answer to. Well, there were two other kids my age who were just as bad as I was, Dink and Pumpkin, but they wasn’t exactly on what I was on. They stole cars and I sold dope. However, both of them was my partners in crime, my road dogs, and my best friends. But they eventually moved out of the hood, and because of that, I had lost