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but if the blood inside you is on the inside of someone else, you never want to see it on the outside of them.
Blood soaking into a T-shirt, blue jeans, and boots looks a lot like chocolate syrup when the glow from the streetlights hit it. But I know ain’t nothing sweet about blood. I know it ain’t like chocolate syrup at all.
BEEF gets passed down like name-brand T-shirts around here. Always too big. Never ironed out.
ANOTHER THING ABOUT THE RULES They weren’t meant to be broken. They were meant for the broken to follow.
how the best rappers ever were Biggie and Tupac, but I always wondered if that was just because they were dead. People always love people more when they’re dead.
NO. 2: CRIME SHOWS I grew up watching crime shows with my mother. Always knew who the killer was way before the cops. It’s like a gift. Anagrams, and solving murder cases.
like holding a newborn except I knew the cry would be much much much much louder.
What if you miss?
Always always always be skeptical of a person who answers a question by asking a question. Usually usually usually it’s a setup.
The Rules. No crying. No snitching. And always get revenge.
What’s good, man? Nothing. Is good. At all.
AND EVEN THOUGH his face was wet with tears he wasn’t supposed to cry when he was alive, I couldn’t see him as anything less than my brother, my favorite, my only.
eyes dull from death but shining from tears,
