Forbidden Turf Publishing

Chapter 11
"Roll Or Die"
My ni**as live this thug s**t, formulate plots, we love it. Can't slip, better stay low when these slugs hit. Messed up, stay gassed up, nose drain got my brain thinking past you. No time to fake, f*** n*****, give up the cake. I need Stacks with big faces, that means numbers for the safe. You've seen it before, real stories of Jack boys, knee blocks of snow, we like mops and glow. Can't seem to get enough, invading with stalks unloaded.
" what I'm saying is that we need to up the price, those cats going to spend anyway, we got the best dope on the coast right now. Ever since Jacko went back to Puerto Rico, Everything Has Changed For the good!"
" listen to what Kelvin saying, it has logic to it if you pay close attention, because the income increased indeed since then Jacko," the other man stated at the puffing on his Cuban cigar.
" I've ran it twice, still 1.2 mil here Sonny. Do you want us to package deals for shipping?"
" Yeah you can go ahead and get it ready for packaging, but I need 20 of those kilos to reach Hopkins by 8 p.m., tell Rick to get his men up here and I want the other 30 in Myrtle Beach."
" I thought we wasn't dealing with Troop and those dudes from Milano anymore?" Kevin asked
" Money exchange business relationships, nothing personal like these social or personal relationships," the man said while flipping through his Apple cell phone.
Sonny was a middle-aged Italian guy with a heavy Northern accent. They've been working a co***ne operation outside Irmo, South Carolina the last few years. Ever since their competition disappeared ,business has jumped nearly triple for them. Been under-the-radar made them a growing factor and also made the streets respect their hustle and love their product even more.

I Wanna Apologize For The Late Release Of "Keep Pushing 2- Murk City"... I'm Working On my 1st Project:"Buck Wild"-A Hood Trilogy

FORBIDDENTURF PUBLISHING & ENTERPRISES; L.L.C
al-Latif J. Wahid

" Get your shoes R.J. and put those toys back in the box. You need to get them out of my living room!" Resha yelled
Resha's son was about three years old now, very short like her, and bow legged. He looked just like his grand father, but was high yellow with curly hair. R.J. was bad as hell and extremely hard headed.
"Come here lil n***a," Yella said holding a candy bar.
"Hold on Wanda! Don't give him that s**t, he'll make a mess and plus he hadn't ate yet," Resha stated holding the phone in her left hand while giving signs with her right hand.
Yella was just how his name appeared, mostly he's been called Yellow Boy. You couldn't tell him he wasn't a real glamour, pretty boy! He was definitely smart and a bonifide hustler. He was never the type to hang around many guys, do it was hard to pinpoint his daily moves or whereabouts. He was definitely smooth and he knew it.
"Are you hungry, are you eating now,?" Resha asked
""Why?"
" I'm about to fix our food, it's 3o'clock and besides I need a nap."
" Nah I'm good bae, I got to step out for a few; supposed to run by my mom's and gotta see Fred before he goes outta town."
" Here, I found these in your pants when I washed laundry thus morning, should've kept them," Resha said holding 2 hundred dollar bills up to her face smiling.
" Well keep it bae, you've found what I've lost!"
" I don't need your money Yella, thanks though."
"I'm not saying it like that, what's mine is yours Resha."

Resha normally went shopping every 2 weeks, awaiting Chelly; she didn't miss a beat. They would spend nearly $1000 in cash on food for their homes, and Resha definitely wasn't used to any man taking care of her other than her father...
Yella didn't know too much about Resha's private life, so more than average, his thoughts were that she was just a regular girl. He never seen her driving, nor did he believe she could drive because he only seen her leaving and coming with her mother. He was told that she was Ross's daughter, but however; he didn't believe it. He was having his doubts though until he actually got a chance to ask her himself.