Be God dug into his right jean pocket, removing a cellophane bag of white powder along with some loose change. At the sight of the powder Right Add instantly turned away, he knew exactly what it was.
“God you just said a Father is one who is responsible for his community, looks after it, and keeps it safe and then you pull out cocaine? You manifested a beautiful build on the Supreme Alphabet and then you pull out cocaine? God see that’s the type of contradiction I can’t live with any more. That half-way righteous shit don’t rock for me no more God.” Right Add turned away, shaking his head like an old grandmother, and like an old grandmother he added a disapproving, “Um-um-um” under his breath in an attempt to further shame Be God.
“Yall Christian ass Gods funny as shit. Nigga you use to snort more than me. You accepted Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior? Why don’t you just go up in Harriet Tubman and buy one of the Muslim hats with the tassle on top.”
Careful and meticulous like a scientist Be God unwrapped the cellophane bag, then pulled out a hundred dollar bill off the top of a rubber-banded cash knot and with the skill of a sculptor managed to shape the Benjamin into a ladle, but instead of soup he scooped-up a nostril full of China white, then, inconspicuously ducking down behind the steering wheel he took a bump of blow in to his right nostril, suctioning the powder deep into his brain. Quickly he rose up, taking a refreshing deep breath and then again ducking down taking another scoop with the alternate left nostril: another deep long swine like snort.
“Nigga this that shit up from Houston, not that ATL stepped-on shit, less than one cut on it. Snort-a-bump for old time sake G-O-D! It’s that Houston understanding God, fresh over the border nigga.” Be God urged, tempting Add.
“Now Cipher! You justify your filthy affairs and dirty religion using your distorted, and diluted version of the truth God.” Right Add said accusingly, continuingly looking out the passenger side window, ignoring the glorious snorting sounds of the Houston flame going up Be God’s nostrils.
“Yo Emblem. You want a bump God?” he said looking in the rear-view mirror at Em.
“I’m peace God. God you can let me out I got to handle some math across the street.” Emblem said.
Be God got the hint and unlocked the door, letting Emblem out.
“Yall Gods be peace.” Emblem said walking away from the vehicle.
“Cee what happens when you bring that understanding out. Pussy niggaz get shook as fuck. That’s what you gonna become God? One of those niggaz who get shook as fuck when the understanding come out and the temperature in the room goes up?”Be asked Add, referring to Emblem.
“I’m good on the understanding tip Lord. Knowledge power months all being born to my understanding. That shit gotta expiration date Gee and I ain’t gotta put it through my nose no more Lord.”
“Aw here we go! You did fifteen months in the county and now you on some self-righteous shit. ‘Been there-done that’ God. Fifteen months ain’t shit and fifteen months in some country ass Virginia county lock-up definitely ain’t shit. That true I master equal killed the muscle in your hustle? Not Da God Right Add! You ain’t goin’ down to Victory Allah to get that cream no more? Not Da God Right Add Allah! Say it ain’t so!” Be God was mocking Right Add’s new post-prison house righteous demeanor.
“After that experience I took the devil under heel! I took the devil under heel! I took the devil under heel!” Right Add chanted, rocking back and forth like a soldier afflicted with post traumatic stress disorder. “A little bit of weed is all I need. That other devilishment like that grafted powder you’re putting up your nose, I’m done with that snake venom.”
“My degrees say ‘into hell’ not ‘under heel’.” Be God nit-picked just to nit-pick, imitating religious Gods.
“Under heel or into hell? Whateva nigga! You can’t tell me 120 ain’t real God. I lived it- it unfolded in front of my face nigga…” Add looked as if he was on the verge of tears, testifying like a syphilitic whore in church accepting Christ as savior.
“Hold that the thought.” Be God said, intentionally cutting Add off, minimizing the drama and seriousness of Right Add’s experience. Loudly he powered each nostril again. “God you sure you don’t want a bump of this flame? Them Texas niggaz bringin’ up that ill shit-shit is better than any package Dominican niggaz or ATL niggaz ever delivered. You remember when I told you Darlene fucked up that chunk-paper? Princess dumb ass can’t count. Like mother like daughter-dumb ass bitches. Broke me down to 22 racks. I called myself getting on that goodie-two shoe God shit, starting a business in the black community and what-not. Darlene came to me crying, “We only got 22 geez!” I ain’t argue wit da bitch. I grabbed the wisdom wisdom racks, copped a brick from them Texas niggas and ain’t look back. Fuck that Cliff Huxstable shit. That goodie-two shoe God shit will make you a poor righteous teacher indeed. So nigga you best wake the fuck up and put whatever jail-house Koran you wrote in the past where it belongs: in the past. And go out to Victory Allah and get dis money nigga.” Be God scolded Add as if Add was a kid.
“There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him! There is no unrighteousness in him.” Add just rocked back and forth again and again like a traumatized war vet home from Afghanistan. He looked crazy.
“Did the Aryan Brotherhood rape you or somethin’ nigga? What da fuck is wrong wit chu Add?” Be God yelled, looking at his one-time hustlin’ A-alike like he was crazy.
“Hell no they ain’t rape me nigga. The fuckin’ correctional officers tortured me, violated my constitutional rights. Fuckin devils! They showed and proved that the colored man is da Caucasian or White Man Yacob’s grafted devil. Point fuckin blank! Fuck you Be God, you can go on wit that H.G. Wells bullshit theories about Asiatic history all da fuck you want. 120 unfolded in front of my eyes God like the reality it is.” Right Add yelled as if a mad man about to snap.
“What the fuck happened to you! You ain’t the same Right Add nigga! Honestly I thought you was in Victory Allah snitchin’ when I ain’t hear from you. I ain’t know shit. No indictments came down so I figured you kept your mouth shut and did your little time or whateva-whateva.”
“Now cipher I wasn’t snitchin nigga! God you just sat here and ran down this beautiful build about how you see Supreme Alphabet and Math and that’s peace, b.u.t. God you ain’t gonna tell me 120 ain’t real. That shit is real in the battle-field, it saved my life. Remember the rich white bitch I was fuckin’ in Victory Allah?”
“Y equal Self!”
“Well the bitch leased me a fly ass condo, it was supposed to be our little fuck spot. Condo management had to paint and repair minor shit before I moved in, so in the meantime the white bitch gets me a telly for a week. Her husband-the judge called her on some emergency shit-so the white bitch bounced. I was cool wit that. That shit you snorting right there…” Add pointed at the cellophane bag of blow in the truck’s ash tray. “…that flame from Houston you first floated me had me buzzin, feelin good than a movafucka. Niggaz in V.A. was calling that shit Columbiana. Remember when that movie Columbiana came out? Well that’s the nick name niggaz in Victory Allah put on that flame. I did like you said, no ‘stepsies’, ain’t put no cut on it, kept it raw as Ole Dirty. All them Victory Allah niggaz was lookin’ for that kid Right Add from Now Why. All I had was a brick and a half. Remember? I couldn’t keep that shit in the store. I sold damn near one and a half bricks before noon. I kept four and half ounces for personal, cause I never snorted coke that pure. Word is Bond. The shit ain’t have none of them shoe prints from ATL tap dancin’ niggaz on it. Them niggaz was puttin’ baby laxative on the brick every step of the way up I-95.”
“I’m in the telly, and the white bitch texts me the word ‘Handcuffs’, which meant that she couldn’t get away from her husband. Her husband had become mad suspicious. So I’m in the telly with the best coke I ever snorted, and no power you. The coke had me hornier than a savage in the pursuit. So I say fuck it; get fly, and hit the strip club the same way I came to North America, and took a few samples of the flame for bitches. While I’m in the club two hoes give me a lap dance. I pay ‘em wisdom cipher and tip ‘em each a half-a-gram of the flame.”
“I’m sipping on a Heineken watching the other hoes in the club swing from poles and both the bitches I tricked-off a gram to came back after they took a bump. The bitches was like, “Nigga what chu tryna’ do?”
I told ‘em off rip, “I’m tryna put my dick in both yall mouth.” Right Add said, causing Be to laugh loudly. This was the old Add Be knew.
“You got more of that?” One of the hoes asked me. I ain’t answer that bitch. My diamond watch told the bitch I had a boat load of coke. The two bitches had a quick whore conference, working out how they were gonna play it. I’m still sippin’ on the first Heineken, doing the knowledge on the other hoes. Finally, the bitches got it in gear, one hoe had a bucket so they followed me back to the telly. We stop at a light. The hoes is behind me in their cee Allah rule and I noticed in my rear-view that the bitch driving was on her phone. My Knowledge Wisdom Cipher turns on like GPS nigga and in my heart of hearts I feel like this bitch is on the power he with da wolves.”
Add’s words had Be God dialed all the way in, watching it in his third as if it was a 60 inch high def smart true victory.
“I start mumblin’ to myself, ““You out here mingling with these 85 snakes on the verge of fallin’ victim.”” I could feel this bitch was planning to bring wolves to the door. At that point I’m caught between two places in knowledge wisdom cipher. On one-hand I’m horny and I really wanna live-out a beast life that night and on the other hand I think the whore on the power he, tailing me in the bucket is making arrangements to feed me to some wild beasts on some Nurse shit.”
“And you know what God?” Right Add asked Be God, captivated by Add’s story.
“What?” Be God answered.
“My dumb ass follows my dick on some easily led in the wrong direction shit. Like Musa had a hard-time, I had a hard dick, all I could imagine was one of them hoes suckin’ on my balls while the other one was suckin’ my dick. The black germ in me was tryna civilize the weaker brown germ in my body. Black Germ telling me to relax, and cool the fuck out while the brown germ wanna throat fuck both them bitches. In my third eye the germs in my body are separating God. I could literally feel myself grafting Black into white. I got my hands on the steering wheel and in my head I’m listening to the brown germ and the black germ argue. Brown germ said that the bitches just wanna snort some blow and fuck, and that the whores ain’t even swift enough to set-up a sharp nigga like me: I’m Da God Add! The black germ goes to the born degree and says don’t take them whores on face value.”
“My name was already ringin’. D.C. niggaz, Victory Allah niggaz was all talkin’ bout da kid Add from New York is a millionaire. Far from a fuckin’ millionaire, I’m no where near. 31, 32 thou at best, and the white bitch was holdin’13 ‘break in case of emergency’ racks. Victory Allah niggaz just knew I had that raw, but couldn’t put a name to the face. So these bitches is tailing me right! Later I realize the bitches is lookin’ dead at my New York plates. The bitches put two and two together that I must be that kid Add from New York wit da Columbiana. I ain’t realize that angle of the square until I was sittin’ in a jail cell gettin’ beat wit many stripes. That night, living a beast-life kicked the shit out of all my inclinations leaning toward a right and exact sense of civilization. Instead of shaking these bitches I go against my better judgment, bring ‘em back to the telly, hoping like hell that these bitches is too blind, too deaf, and too dumb to bring wolves to da door.”
“We in the room, and I’m settin out the blow, put an L of kush in the air and one the bitches start baby-sittin’ the blunt talkin’ bout, “I like the way yall talk in New York.” I don’t pay this country bitch no mind and without hesitation I pull down my pants, whip my divine eye out and sprinkle flame on it. I make these bitches do what they W-2 tax forms say they get paid to do-which is suck my movafuckin’ dick. One of ‘em was a bad bitch, and the other one was just ‘alright’. They doin’ they thing but I ain’t feelin’ shit, my dick and balls numb as fuck from the flame. All I hear is the bitches slurpin’. The alright lookin’ bitch kept stoppin’ and saying, “This some good coke!” I’m lookin’ down at both the bitches’ peeping their weave tracks and I say to the alright lookin’ bitch who kept talkin instead of suckin’, “I ain’t tryna look down on you ma but put my left nut back in your mouth and shut da fuck up.”
“God you crazy as fuck!” Be God laughed while rollin another L.
Even though I told the bitch to put these nuts back in her mouth, every 30 seconds, the bitch would pop her head up, “This coke that shit.”
“Word is bond Be, even though I ain’t in the game no-more that Columbiana shit from Houston was pushing them Victory Allah niggaz wigz da fuck back son. Finally, the alright lookin bitch gets off her knees to use the bathroom. The Bad bitch was doing her justice cipher born, goin’ hard on the divine eye. While the alright bitch was in the bathroom I listened for the sound of a stream of piss, even the sound of shit ploppin in toilet water, not even the faucet came on. The bitch was on her phone whisperin’ to da wolves. I pushed the bad bitch off my dick, pulled my pants up from around my ankles. I had to go. The bad bitch looked up at me and asked, “What’s up?” and I told her, “I gotta get some condoms from the whip. I wasn’t going to get condoms-I was gettin’ the fuck outta dodge. My 120 was on high alert blinking in bright red in my head, ‘THE WOLVES ARE COMING’. The whistle in the whip. The white bitch had my other whistle. The alright-lookin’ bitch opened the bathroom door and asked, “Where you goin’ bae!” I told her the same bullshit, “I’m going to the whip to get a condom.” And the alright lookin bitch says, “Booh I got plenty condoms!”
“Fuck bullshitting these hoes. I opened the drawer next to the bed because I had the four and a half ounces of blow on top of the Gideon Bible. As soon as I see the bible my 120 GPS spits the knowledge degree in the one to forty in a split second, ‘Who wrote the Holy Quran or Bible How Long Ago? And will you tell us why does Islam renew its History every 25,000 years?” I immediately realize these bitches tryna get my Quran expired. At that point I’m moving at a terrific speed, snatch the understanding from the Gideon Bible and bolted. The bitches see all the blow, and their eyes get big but they don’t make a move. I get my car keys and get to the parking lot. As soon as I close the Tahoe doors the wolves turn into the hotel parking lot, riding four or five deep in a rust color Crown Vic. I see the wolves before the wolves see me. I dip past these niggaz real smooth. They goin’ one way and I’m goin’ the other. 85 Niggaz was planning to ‘First 48’ Da God. Fuck that shit!”
“The fucked up thing is that now I’m riding dirty, more than enough understanding under the arm-rest to put me under the prison house. My plan was to dip to a restaurant, get some coffee and clear my head. After a few left turns and a couple sharp rights on back streets I realize I got the same head-lights in the rear-view and it wasn’t the wolves who turned into the telly parking lot. My third calculating, tryna figure out who da fuck is this? I catch a view in the streetlights and see it’s a white movafucka. First thing I think is ‘Feds’. My heart drop. I’m thinkin’ RICCO on some 240 months shit and start thinking, ‘where can I dump da dope?’ He ain’t pull me over, but he ghostin a nigga hard. I turn into a gas station, and play the ‘gettin gas’ role. Whiteboy turn in with me but didn’t turn into a pump, instead he parks. When I knew he wasn’t looking I was gonna dump the coke in the trash can between the seventh and eighth pump. I refined that thought and realized the feds would fish that shit out. Then I see the squeegee holder fabricated into the side of the trash can filled wit dirty Windex and water. I pick up the squeegee and dump the coke in the dirty Windex and water. Feds wouldn’t think to look in there. I start cleaning off my windshield, humming casually like I’m innocent John Q Public. White dude gets out of the car, and walks toward me. I’m peeping dude out of my peripheral but I’m focused on cleaning my windshield. When he got close he asked me “What happened over at the hotel?” The White man sounded clan affiliated. I could tell he was on some official law enforcement shit. As I’m cleaning, I realize I still got the whistle in the whip. I dumped the coke, but still had the whistle.”
“As soon as I asked, four police cars turned into the gas station. When I see the lights I know I got a gun charge and hoped that these movafuckuz wouldn’t search the squeegee holder.”
“The room you came out of was rented with a stolen credit card and these officers would like to have a word with you.”
“That was bullshit. The white bitch’s credit card was good. The bitch’s husband who was a judge put a Private Eye on me and her and attached an addendum to all her accounts to be notified of her every purchase. Me and the white bitch had figured this out months earlier so she got a credit card in her maiden name. What we ain’t know is that her husband found out she had gotten another credit card and so when we checked-into the telly it raised a red flag and the judge was alerted. The Private Eye notified police. Even though I dumped the four and a half ounces of blow in the squeegee rack I still had the eight-ball in my pocket that I had set aside to trick on the hoes back at the telly and $7338 dollars in cash. They take me down for felony possession of a loaded firearm, felony possession of a controlled substance and fraudulent use of a credit card. They charged me, booked me and threw me in a cell with a dirty white boy withdrawing from Justin Bieber. This white movafucka skinny, stinky, and dirty as fuck. Needle marks everywhere. He laying in his bunk shivering, sweating and moaning. Dude stankin’.”
Add paused, shaking his head as he was reliving the ordeal. He continued, “You know how you talk all that Supreme Alphabet shit? Well this white boy smelled like ‘Hell’. Love Hell and Right indeed which showed and proved that the smell of Hell was standing next to Right: me. This grafted snake’s funk wasn’t stinging somebody else it was stinging my nose.”
““Yo, Cee Ohh!” I’m yelling through the steel jail door tryna let the C.O. know that this white dude is sick. I’m thinking this whiteboy might have tuberculosis because he was coughing with the worse hack I ever heard”
“Lights out!” The C.O. screamed back at me tryna get me to shut up.”
““But dude sick!” I’m tryna tell ‘em through the cell door.”
“That’s the first warning!” He yells from the station-desk.”
“I don’t want to find out what the wisdom warning is so I plays it cool and endure the funk of this whiteboy but then the white boy starts throwing up. Word is bond God, this whiteboy threw-up for a half hour straight before he started dry heaving. It’s only me and him in the cell and the floor of the cell is almost completely covered with vomit. The whiteboy can’t make it to the toilet to throw up.”
““Cee Oh! This dude sick and the vomit need to be cleaned up!” I yelled and banged on the door like a mad man.”
“This big buzz-cut C.O. movafucka stands outside of the cell and starts writing me up. The second warning constituted as an official disciplinary demerit. I’m tryna show him that my celly is sick and he stink! I know they can smell him outside the door. Other inmates could smell this whiteboy in the other cells. The movafucka got open sores all over his body. I don’t know if this white boy got AIDS or what. The movafuckin cell floor was painted with vomit so I had to piss in the toilet standing on my tip-toes because I ain’t want to step in the whiteboy’s vomit. At about 3 a.m. the white boy starts shitting on himself. Explosive diarrhea! The back of his orange jumpsuit is shitty brown. I’m sitting on my top bunk like its sharks on the floor. I threw-up. I saw my vomit mix with devil vomit and the first thing I think about is how Yacob grafted the brown germ from the black germ into white. And word is bond God I start distilling because I realized I’ve fallen victim to devil civilization. My culture is freedom- freedom means you can leave. These Virginia White boys got me roped in a cave. I’m literally in the culture degree in the 1 to 14, smelling the white-boy’s shit in the caves of Europe. Eu means movafuckin hillsides and R-O-movafuckin’ P-E means the rope to bind a nigga in. No relief came. The Punks-Cee cipher punks got my power he, unconstitutionally blocking my right to due-process. I got that on my mind and screaming at the whiteboy to get up and use the toilet because his diarrhea was pouring out like liquid.”
“So I scream again, ““Yo Cee Oh!!” This movafuckin’ whiteboy shittin on himself. Then the same C.O. stands in front of my cell and tells me that with the third warning comes a 24 hour period of cell confinement which restricts me to my cell, meaning I gotta be in there with that whiteboy for 24 hours. The C.O. is ignoring what I’m saying, standing eight feet from the door barking my charges at me, acting like he can’t smell the feces in the cell. When he wrote me up he made a note that I used a racial slur. All I did was call him a movafuckin’ ‘whiteboy’ which I found out was a racial slur.”
“I laid on my top bunk and I recited 120. I must have recited it power times before I fell asleep. At 5:30 a.m. they open the rectangular compartment in the door for the food tray. We get two food trays, an apple, a milk, a cereal and toast. The morning staff tells us to come to the door to retrieve our trays. The white boy is sleep or dead and I told them that there is vomit and feces on the floor. They give me thirty seconds to come to the door. I tell them again that its vomit and shit on the floor, and that my celly is real sick. I don’t get off the top bunk so they slam the rectangular steel compartment in the middle of the door.”
“God I fuckin’ lost it. The last thing I had was a fuckin’ Heineken at the strip club. I’m hungry as a movafucka and on top of that I’m scheduled to be on cell restriction for the entire day. The whiteboy still on the bottom bunk, finally he stopped shittin’ and throwing up. Around the God hour in the morning they send a white woman C.O. to the cell and she stands behind this red line approximately 8 feet from the cell door barking some more charges claiming that I’m conspiring to use feces as a weapon and that constitutes as intent to harm a correctional officer and in doing so nine months on top of my time will be added to my pending sentence to be determined at trial. “
“God I snapped, I’m at the top of my lungs with “The colored man is the Caucasion or whiteman Yacob’s grafted devil!” God I screamed like I was insane. “You fuckin’ white devil! You fuckin’ white devil bitch! All the while I’m screaming this big white dyke bitch is calmly writing. These country movafuckuz is violating not only my civil and constitutional rights but they violating my human rights. And they violating the sick whiteboy’s rights because it’s mad obvious he needs medical attention. The Whiteboy is still curled in his fetal position. I’m desperate at that point. I got to get out of that cell. So I scream that I need my psych meds. I lie and tell them I’m bi-polar and schizophrenic and I need my meds! I tell them that I’m having visions of cutting my celly’s throat.” I keep making threats of violence directed to my celly hoping that they forcibly extract me from this fuckin’ filthy ass stankin ass cell. Put me anywhere but here. Fuck the gun charge I’d take it, fuck the drug possession charge-I’ll take it. Fuck the movafuckin’ credit card fraud charge-I’d take it: just get me the fuck out of this cell is all I was thinkin.”
“It worked. I see an extraction team set up outside of the cell. These whiteboys are dressed like firemen and S.W.A.T. all wrapped in one, wearing a combination of combat gear and yellow bio-hazmat suits because the night-shift C.O. informed them that I was using feces as a weapon.”
“As they were preparing to extract me I sat up on the side of the top bunk waiting for them, rocking back and forth chanting, “Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Six big corn-fed white boys breached the door and the water hose went off in my face full blast knocking me back against the wall. I fell off the top bunk. “Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! Who is the Original Man! They draggin’ me on the floor through this whiteboy’s shit and vomit. I get this white heroin addicts defecation on my body. These movafuckuz is restraining me like I’m resisting. Arm twisted behind my back, boots between my shoulder blades. My other arm popped out of the socket and the right side of my face is pressed against the whiteboy’s vomit and shit on the cell floor. The whiteboy still in the fetal position on the bottom bunk sleeping like a newborn fuckin baby. I stopped chanting, ‘who is the Original man’ because I don’t want the whiteboy’s shit or vomit gettin’ in my mouth because it’s bad enough it’s all in my ear and on the side of my face. So I disappear like the trader in the wisdom build to the peace of my black mind. Nigga, I get on some ‘Zen Bhuddist, 35,000’ years ago shit in my mind and even with the pain of my arm out of socket and these white boys beatin’ on my head I make it all the way to the equality degree in the one to ten in my mind before I lose consciousness and black da fuck out. “What is the exact square miles of useful land used by the total population of the Planet Earth everyday?”