OFF THE RECORD: PINK HOUSES

This was like niiiinty4, 1995... we was in Brooklyn for a funeral.. I don't know who's it was but.. that's the only time my aunt and father would be in the same room togeva. They hated each other.... like hated hated hated each other. But at funerals they had to keep it cool.. Like everybody would have to go to my grandmuva house type shit.. eat, drink, sleep... talk shit. you know. Back then it felt like we was always at one... I remember it being hot outside. It had to be summer cause me and my brother had on shorts and was playing in front the house, I mean the brownstone... My Grandmom's owned a crazy brownstone out in Brooklyn. She made them niggas paint her shit pepto bismol pink. haha. Deadass B. She said she painted it pink cause she wanted everybody to know "this is my house.. I ain't none of that renting shit" haha. That lady was wild. A hustler. Lady never had a job but bought a brownstone and sent all her kids to college..... She was tough.

But any way.. It had to be my cousin Boobie funeral cause he got killed in the summer time and I was dumb young. Boobie was like 15,16 maaaaaybe 17. If he was 15, 16, I was like 6 or 7. Yea, like 7... Boobie was the first person I knew, like really knew to be killed. What happen? I don't know but my pops told me, he got into argument with a girl or he hit her, something like that. I'm not sure. But shorty went and got her brother and they caught him coming out the store on Throop... homeboy walked up, hit him once and Boobie took off... Boobie was a fat nigga though.. so he ain't get too far before collapsed. Ambulance came or whatever and took him to the hospital. They pronounced him dead. They said he got shot once by a, I think a 22, but you know those bullets are so small that it bounced around inside his body and hit an artery... killed him. Word. The nigga that killed him was 15 too.

But yea, we was at my grandmuva house. My family was there, my moms, my pops, my aunt.. my aunt punk ass kids (haha), my brother... It was dark, the street lights was on.. people was still walking up and down the block and shit. I could see the lights on the display menu on the inside of the Chinese food restaurant across the street. Cars going by playing music. It was a regular summa night, you know? But me and my brother was still fucking around outside. Playing games and shit. We was running back and forth between the sidewalk and the house. You know how the brownstones are setup. Its the sidewalk, then the little gate, walk inside the gate, that little courtyard area shit, and then the actual building. So me and my brother would race back and forth to see who could run, hop the gate, run, touch the wall and run back to the sidewalk the fastest. So we doing this, back and forth shit or whatever. Maybe like 3/4 times right. So boom, we doing it. We hop the gate, bong, touch the wall, bong, I touch the wall first cause I'm that nigga. lol. Bong.

But the next thing I know, Somebody grabs me dumb hard by the back of my shirt, like up by the neck, dumb hard, like BOOM! nigga damn near lifted me out my kicks be. Nigga spins me around by my collar like "what you doing here?".... Nigga I'm 7. All I see is a big ass white nigga with a black tee, baseball cap and a big ass bulletproof vest, and he got me hemmed up. I'm like oh shit! lol The other cop had my brother like off to the side. He was a like 9... Cop like "who you here with?" my bitch ass start ratin crazy (lol)... "my moms, my pops, my aunt, she a lawyer.. want me to get them?" lol. Snitchin crazy. lol. but as soon as he heard "lawyer" he let my shirt go. He was like "stop jumping the fence" and then they spun off back to their car. Me and my brother blew down the hall to the kitchen in the back and told everybody.. My aunt, the lawyer, she be on her bullshit. Even though she don't fuck with my pops, she was the first one out the door popping shit... "what the fuck this, what's your badge number that, ahh ahh ahh" all that shit but by the time she got to the car, they pulled off.

We all have a story, whether good or bad.. there's a story to tell. Off The Record is that . It's an ongoing article where I've gone to my neighborhood and interviewed all of the retired street guys, that left the game alone.. They were filled with stories. Stories that they never told or felt like they could ever tell.. These are true stories. These are the stories of the men and women from neighborhoods like mine, across the country. Enjoy.