305 Lovin'

Diamond Johnson

Sujets

• Urban Books

Informations

• Publié par: Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
• Date de parution: 05 novembre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781648543760
• Langue: English

Extrait

Contents



1. Jaquan

2. Charlie

3. Jaquan

4. Chantel

5. Jaquan

6. Charlie

7. Tracy

8. Jaquan

9. Charlie

10. Monae

11. Dre

12. Dre

13. Chantel

14. Quan

15. Tracy

16. Quan


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© 2015
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com


All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
1

Jaquan

I ’m that nigga from the 305
To get to where I’m from, you had to pay yo tithes
When things were going wrong, I put my trust in God
L ooking around this packed ass club as I performed on stage, I thought to myself that these mothafuckas didn’t love me. They loved my music. They loved the fame that I had that came along with the dope ass music that I made. They loved the beat of my music, the flow, the lyrics. With all that being said, they didn’t love the real Jaquan Hakeem Williams. My fans only knew what I portrayed and that was a fuckin thug ass rapper by the name of “Quan.” A thug ass rapper that rapped about all the money, cars, and hoes that I had for every day of the week.
But what about the broke ass Jaquan that I was two years ago before this rapping shit? Where the fuck was all the love at then? Where was all of the support then? We’re living in a world now where people only fuck with you because of who you are and what you have. Two years ago, when a nigga was passing out my mixtape to anybody I could find, I didn’t have that love then. Mothafuckas didn’t know me and they didn’t believe in me. I swear to you, life’s a bitch and it’s fuckin them hard because a nigga had finally made it out of the hood and I wasn’t trying to ever go back. I’m not trying to sound like a bitch and act like I don’t like my fans but I knew deep down that these bitches and niggas didn’t love me because of who I was. They loved me for what I had.
Jaquan Hakeem Turner is my name, but in this industry, I went by Quan. Rap had always been my thing. It kept me sane after all of the things that I’d had to experience as a child. Growing up in Liberty City, a neighborhood in North Miami, I had to have dreams if I ever wanted to make it out of that terrible ass, drug-infested neighborhood. Growing up, I looked up to rappers like Snoop Dogg, Tupac, and Biggie. Those same niggas had a fuckin dream and they went after it. See, the thing is, I don’t care about the famous part; a nigga would just rather to be rich. I ain’t never had shit, so to be able to finally have something, I was very appreciative of everything that I had.
I grew up in a two bedroom apartment that housed myself, my little sister Monae, and my mama. To this day, my mama had got to be the strongest fuckin person in the world that I knew. We were fuckin poor but my mom always made a way. She put my sister and me first before any and everything in her life. She worked her ass off as a hotel maid to make sure that my sister and I had food on the table and clothes on our backs, even if our shit did come from the damn Salvation Army. If that ain’t a strong black woman, then I don’t know what the fuck is.
Now as far as a daddy goes, I didn’t have one of those. I’d seen that nigga maybe two times in my life and I was okay with that. In my eyes, I figured that it was his lost because I turned out to be just fine. I’m not about to sit up here and talk a whole bunch of cash money shit about my so-called daddy because I don’t want to even waste my damn on that coward.
Two years ago, I was home, laying my ass on my mama’s couch, when I got a call from Sincere mothafuckin O’Neal. Sincere was that nigga in the music industry and for him to be calling me, it had to really be something big. Somehow, that nigga must have stumbled across my music that I had on YouTube and he gave me a call. I swear to God that that was the day that my life changed forever. I remember that day verbatim. A nigga didn’t have a car or nothing, so I took two damn busses just to get to his studio and I signed that damn contract in no fuckin time.
In my eyes, I didn’t need to question whether or not I should sign the contract because this was what I wanted. I wanted to be a fuckin rapper. I wanted my music to send messages to my fans on how the fuck a po’ boy like me got rich. I wanted my fans to know the shit I went through growing up as a kid. I wanted my fans to know how it felt to be broke and have to ask your damn mama for money. I wanted them to know the times I had to sneak into fuckin stores to steal pampers and shit for my daughter. I swear to God, the music industry fucked up signing my ass because I had a fuckin story to tell through my lyrics and I was going to do just that.
Back to the matter at hand, I had just finished up performing my new hit single, “That Nigga” at the K.O.D in Miami and the crowd was going fuckin crazy. I picked my shirt up off the stage that I had thrown off in the middle of me performing and made my way to the back. A nigga was sweating bullets right now from being on that damn mic. I’m not even going to lie, whenever I’m in Miami, the fans really showed love. This was my fuckin city so it was only right that I came and represented.
“Nigga, your ass had them bitches going fuckin crazy out there. You seen them hoes throw they damn panties on the stage?” my nigga Quay, short for Jaquavious asked me.
Quay was my nigga, point blank period; no questions asked. I had known this nigga damn near all my life and we would sit up late nights in my room and strategize when we were younger about how we were going to make it out of the hood. We knew that this would happen one day. No matter how much hard shit we went through in life, we just knew that one day we were going to make it out of the hood. Which is why when I became famous, I decided to make him my manager. I wasn’t the type of nigga that was going to forget where I came from or forget about the people that were with me when I didn’t have shit. I didn’t have to worry about Quay trying no slick shit with me or my money because I trusted his ass. This man had proved his loyalty to me time and time again and I loved his ass for that.
“Yeah, nigga, I seen that shit. Them hoes is straight wild,” I told him, making my way backstage to the room that they had given me for the night.
Walking into the room, we saw that my fuck buddy Chantel was sitting down on the black leather sofa with her phone glued to her hand, probably on fuckin social media or some shit like her ass always did. Now I referred to her as my fuck buddy because that’s exactly what the fuck we were to each other. I was fuckin the shit out of her and I had no feelings attached to her ass. I’m not going to lie. Chantel was a bad ass female but I was hip to her and I knew that this bitch thought that I was her meal ticket. I know for a fact that she wouldn’t have dared talked to my ass when I was down and out, trying to make a name for myself in the rapping world. Chantel was standing 5’6, and weighed about 145 pounds. She had everything, ass, titties, hips, the whole nine. She was caramel complexioned with big, beautiful, brown eyes. She always wore long ass expensive weave from fuckin China and Brazil and shit like that. She kind of puts you in the mindset of a mini Dime from Love & Hip Hop Atlanta . But a nigga like me was surrounded by shit like that all the fuckin time. Right now, I was looking for a bitch that had something going for herself and didn’t have her hand out asking for money every fuckin five minutes. I’m not saying that right now I was actually looking for somebody but shit, if she happens to come my way, I’m going to see what’s up.
A nigga was 25 years old and I’d only loved one other female besides my mama and my sister, and that’s my fine ass baby mama, Charlie. I know ya’ll might be thinking, “Well if you love your baby mama so much, why aren’t you with her?” You see, shit with Charlie was just complicated. I think it’s because we were so much alike. I swear she was the female version of me. Charlie wasn’t your typical, nagging ass baby mama. That girl had been down for me since day one and when I say day one, I’m talking fuckin elementary school. I met Charlie when I was eleven years old in the fifth grade and she was eight in the third grade. I know, at that time, my little ass was way too young to be talking about love, but I knew that I loved that girl. I dead ass used to write corny rhymes for her and give her that shit at lunch. Of course, her ass didn’t pay me any attention at all. We ended up going to middle school together and she finally stopped acting shy with a nigga. I took Charlie’s virginity from her when she was only thirteen years old and I swear I fell deeper in love with that girl after that.
There was a time when Charlie used to be my everything. The reason I loved her so much was because of the simple fact that she didn