Top 5: Things I Learned Selling Drugs

I have done two things well in my life: fucked bitches and gotten money. I grew up poor and when I realized what the markup on cocaine was, well, it was on as they say. Although, later in life I stopped selling poison and pain. From thirteen to nineteen, I pushed weight as a job, a hobby and a religion. This period of life during which time most kids spend collecting Poke-Whatevers...was spent by me gathering a skill set of survival and forward motion. I’ve been applying this street wisdom to my life for as long as I can remember making choices. So, this month, I give you...

Why the fuck would I start this shit off with this philosophical bullshit? Someone get the fucking manager over here. Seriously though, the dope game is a dangerous place to be. People just disappear all the time. It’s enough to give me an existential crisis—so much murder and so little regard for suffering. When we are babies, we are taught that all humans are sacred (well, unless you’re from Alabama and are taught all white humans are sacred). Out there, in the street, no humans seem to be sacred, but we’ve still lost people that mattered to us. People we put on a t-shirt, people we’ve wept for...those people were the ones who assigned value to their identity outside of money and violence. People who’ve had things to say, love to give or inspiration to share. A hundred soldiers can die in a war and no one gives a shit, but one great man falls and the whole community suffers. I learned young that I wouldn’t be remembered for being a good shot. I had to find a way out and actually do something. Take that for what it’s worth, but if you don’t go out and make something happen, you’ll never be remembered by how good you are at collating data.

This seems a little silly, but how many times have you walked into a building that you would have no idea how to leave, if the way you came in wasn’t available? Along the same logic, a building that you had no idea who else was in? How many times have you sat in a crowded diner and couldn’t describe one other person you saw? Some of us drift through life, never having anything bad happen to us. They call those people white men. But, when captain whitey dips his ink into the drug business, he’s a big-ass, sore, white thumb sticking out in a brown sea. I also wasn’t a huge fan of not telling people who wanted to hurt me to go fuck themselves and their mother, then come find me. And, find me they did. And, would ya just look at that? I’m still here. Why? Because I paid attention to everything, all the time, everywhere I went. Ladies, this one is especially for you. It seems sometimes like the whole world is your predator. And, I’m certain the older and more experienced women already know this, but young ladies, learn to read the story being told by your environment. It has saved my life many times over.

It’s pretty simple, really—no matter what you have or sell or own, someone wants that shit and is also lazy as fuck (hey there, Amy). That lazy, stupid fuck is going to try to take it. Whether it’s money, drugs, jokes, motivation, inspiration, semen...you get my point, right? You normies seem to go through life thinking I won’t kick in your fucking door and make myself a sandwich while I play your Ps4 game saves. You are wrong. There is always a person within earshot or reach that hates the fact that you have something they don’t, and they have less moral objection to taking it than you do about doing what it takes to keep it. In the words of the great and wise Wu-Tang Clan, "Ya best protect ya neck."

But, you can buy necklaces, watches, the lust of a beautiful woman, etc. Seriously, though—you can have money, but no real meaning or direction and still be miserable. And, building a drug empire is only fun while you’re building it. I imagine it’s a lot like building any business up from scratch, while you’re embedded in it problem solving and improvising, you’re in your element. When it comes to maintenance time, it sucks the life right out of you. You need other shit when that time comes. I don’t know what that is for you. I really can’t help with that. But, when the emptiness comes and the nightfall of your glory falls, you’re gonna want to figure it out, man.

Behind every fortune, there is a crime. I have no idea who said that, but it’s true as a motherfucker. [Ed: Actually, neither do the people who plagiarized it in The Godfather, as it was mistakenly attributed to Honore’ de Balzac. I have no idea who that is.] Not everyone is dope boy fresh and working on their laundering scheme over a long weekend, but all of you fucks are crooked as fuck. Everyone I have ever met who owns or runs a business is a criminal in one or more ways. The law is a lot like dollar tree kitchen tools—some are bent and others are broken. If you want to survive without a tax bill that would make Wesley Snipes shit himself, then get a damn expert to help you. You need a lawyer who is used to defending guilty people and also doesn’t have the reputation of a gambling-addicted womanizer. You also need an accountant who will knowingly steal from the IRS, but not from you. An accountant that will fake documents to get you deductions, but not to skim off your books. All great men have had no regard for laws...until they are making them. Never forget that.