Next Day Air Page #3

Hey, man.

I know who we can sell this sh*t to.

Who?

My cousin Shavoo.

- Who?

- Shavoo.

Ohhh! I forgot about...

- Wait a minute. Your cousin?

- Yeah, yeah.

How come we ain't rob him?

'Cause he's my cousin, Guch.

So what he your cousin?

You robbed my cousin.

It was your idea to rob your f***ing cousin.

Now, you're gonna...

You're supposed to have some ideas

to rob your cousin.

Sh*t, we ain't got to rob him now.

He'll buy all that sh*t.

Oh, yeah? How you know that?

Oh! Man, trust me.

The dude is a cocaine cowboy.

He'll turn 10 into 20.

I seen him do it before.

Twenty? How?

Look, man,

I used to work for him, all right?

About two years ago.

One time, I had to re-up.

He tells me to pick up some acetone

and meet him down at the apartment

down in Puerto Rican ville.

One of his b*tch's cribs, I guess.

I'm like, "Acetone?"

Anyway, I get there.

The b*tch open up the door for me.

It was so much dust

coming out of her house,

I thought the f***ing kitchen was on fire.

She pulls me in quickly, lock the door.

Now I'm getting nervous.

I walk in the living room and who I see?

Buddy.

- Buddy? Who's that?

- Buddy.

Buddy's his right-hand man.

I been around this guy

and he won't tell me his name.

So I just call him Buddy.

- Won't tell you his name?

- Yeah.

What kind of sh*t is that? You asked him?

Plenty of times, and the motherf***er

still won't tell me his name.

So, anyway, where was I?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

I see Buddy knee deep up

into a pile of coke this high,

mixing all this powder, dust is everywhere.

Shavoo comes out the bathroom,

starts pushing me back off in the door.

I look around and see this machine.

That's when it hit me.

This motherf***er's making this sh*t.

- Making it?

- Making the sh*t.

They done f***ed around,

hooked up with them Dominicans.

Them Dominicans then showed him

them re-rock machines.

They're compressing the sh*t,

turning two into four and four into more.

That's how I know they gonna buy them.

Good. He better. Plus, if he don't buy them,

I'm gonna rob the motherf***er

next week for sure. Call him.

- What?

- Don't "what" me, get up.

- Who this?

- It's Bro.

Oh! What up, man?

I'm what's up, man.

Hey, look, we need to talk, for real.

- About what?

- Listen.

Hey, boy, I got these bad...

Whoa! Hold up.

Come on, dawg, watch your language

I know, I know. I don't curse.

Look, check this out.

I got

I have ten kilograms of cocaine

right now trying to f***.

At my residence that I wish to sell.

Word?

Really?

How do they look?

Of what quality?

Beautiful.

They are of the finest quality

And you're gonna love them.

And ideally suited for a man of your stature.

They're your type of b*tches.

Well, you know me, Bro,

Thank you, but if they are too expensive,

I don't care how bad the b*tch is.

If she too old, I ain't pulling my dick out.

I will decline a purchase.

Man, they're about as young as they come.

They are VERY reasonably priced.

You dig what I'm saying?

Look, they half the ages of the b*tches

Perhaps one half what you are accustomed.

That you f***ing right now.

You hear me, Shavoo?

Let me ask you something, Bro.

How does one of your standing

How did you get 10 b*tches?

Acquire 10 kilograms?

Because I get b*tches.

Look, check this out, if you and your boys

No matter, if you and your associates

are trying to f*** right now,

have any interest,

y'all need to hurry up and do what y'all

You better hurry up as there are other

gonna do, because they're gonna be gone.

Gentleman I can contact.

- You dig?

- Yeah. I dig.

All right, so keep them there. I want to

see them. I'll be there in like a minute.

All right, dawg.

Who the f*** is that?

- That's what's up. All right.

- All right.

What?

What the f*** is this?

Merry Christmas to whoever gets that.

Giantto.

I want-o.

Smoking. Yes, sir. I'm liking that.

Hey, yo,

what the f*** you doing in here?

Is that f***ing funny?

Is that f***ing funny?

I had a blade in my hand, a**hole.

Scrotum face. What's good?

Morning glory. That's my dude.

- Yes.

- You want some of that?

Yo, you keep f***ing around,

you're gonna get fired, man.

Sh*t, I ain't gonna get fired.

Yeah, you are. You're gonna get me fired.

You ain't gonna get fired.

Your moms, she love you.

Yeah, well,

she was about to fire my ass today.

I was thinking about your moms.

How's she doing?

- Come on now.

- That came out wrong?

- Yeah.

- My bad.

- What she want to fire you for?

- That's another story.

F*** this job. I hate this f***ing job.

The only reason I got this job

is to keep my P.O. Off my back.

I shouldn't have f***ed her.

That p*ssy was good, though.

- You're f***ing joking. Yeah.

- No, I'm not, man.

If I couldn't steal here, what the f***

would I want to work here for, man?

- Punk ass checks ain't paying my bills.

- That's what I'm saying.

"That's what I'm saying"?

What the f*** is you saying?

That's what I'm saying. I'm saying...

- I hate you, that's what I'm saying.

- Why?

I'm a hater. I'm a hater of you.

What do you mean? Why?

You live with a beautiful woman,

taking care of your bills,

cooking your food,

doing your goddamn dirty-ass laundry.

I'm saying I'm trying to move out

and I can't afford to.

Well, you get your balls up.

Get in these boxes.

Who do you think I got it from?

- That's hot.

- How much do you think it pays for?

- What?

- 10K.

Gonna see my man Sandu Ajula,

bing bong. Easy.

Come on, man. You're in America.

Steal something.

- No, man.

- Free money.

How many hands

you think done touched these boxes

before we get them?

What the f*** are they gonna say?

"You stole my sh*t"? I wish they would.

I'd be on Larry King crying, " This terrible

discrimination after all these years..."

- Sh*t! Kiss my ass.

- Dude, you're acting like you rich.

- You are acting like you're rich, right now.

- No, I'm not. I'm acting like...

I'm not rich. Get on a level.

Get with me. Feel me.

- You're bugging. I got boxes to load.

- Peace and love.

Oh! You got some boxes.

What you got? What you got?

Chill, man. Chill. Be easy, all right?

- Yo, tell your moms I said peace.

- Yo.

I'm just saying.

What, I can't appreciate your mom?

- Come on, man.

- That came out wrong.

My bad. Good things. Good things.

Sh*t.

To track a package, press one.

- You remember my cousin Brody?

- Used to work for you?

- Yeah.

- Yeah, a little bit.

Okay. Brody called me this morning, right?

Brody tells me

he's got some b*tches at his crib.

He want me to come check out.

Sh*t. That's good. You know me,

I'm always down to f*** some hoes.

Stop, man. I'm not talking about

those kind of b*tches.

I'm talking about "b*tches" b*tches.

Ah!

Some bricks.

There's certain words

you just can't throw around up in the whip.

Come on, Shav, what you thinking?

Your joint is bugged?

Man, I'm telling you.

I'm at the crib, I'm checking my phone,

I hear an echo every time I check it.

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