Free Hood Misfits, Volume 1 by Brick and Storm

wherever I went in the A and not be trailed by five-O.
    All around us was some regal rich-nigga shit. Shit that said, “I’m new to this money game, so I had to have everything and all.” I laughed to myself, looking around, expecting to see some Scarface shit with the motto “The world is mine” etched in glass somewhere, but I didn’t.
    What I did see was a set of pretty broads from all backgrounds walking down the grand staircase. Each one had a dress on so tight, I could see their nipples poking out for show. Their dresses were so short, at the angle I was, all I saw were pretty slits. Some had those smiling slits—you know, the type that said come suck and lick me—just poking out.
    Damn! Those broads were bad bitches, each and everyone one of them. Hair looked real, so I could tell he wasn’t down with some fake-ass weave. Each broad’s breasts jiggled when they moved, right along with their asses, so I knew that shit was real too.
    â€œ Amigos , come follow my dolls, and we’ll discuss some things.” Armando, the head of the LKs, walked down the stairs, stopping in the middle of his broads, which he named dolls.
    Today, he was wearing a black Italian suit with a teal button-down. I could tell that nigga was strapped up, by the way his jacket moved. Following his broads—although each one had only a drop of clothes and was almost bare-ass naked—as my eyes watched the plentiful asses in front of me, I could tell they also had Glocks strapped in smart ways on their bodies.
    I respected that a lot. Get your tricks familiar with a Glock and no nigga could ever tell if your goons were niggas or bitches. Bossman Dame needed to get on that, but his pride was too fucked up because he knew his broads would smoke his ass the moment they got a Glock in their hands. If I had some bad bitches, they’d be like Armando’s.
    Each exit in the place was burned in my mind as we walked through the mansion. Paintings covered the walls, all better than that half-dog, half-bike painting Dame had on his wall. The shit was better, but I knew the leader was about his rich tip. Which, to me, meant he still wasn’t shit. Hiding behind money just to look good.
    I listened and then sat down in the middle of a sexy chocolate broad, who had her hair up in a ponytail that sat on the top of her head, and a caramel-brown chick, her hair down with bangs that cut close to covering her eyes. These two were some sexy-ass broads, who I wouldn’t mind getting my dick wet with.
    When the broad with the ponytail sat on my lap, I watched as her teal dress slid up to show me her thick thighs. My dick got hard at the feel of her cushion on top of me. Yeah, Armando was trying to distract me with pussy, and it was kind of working, but not totally. I was very much paying attention to everything and memorizing everyone and everything in the room with us as Dough Boy spoke with him.
    Something was going down that wasn’t feeling right with me. I smirked when the caramel drop began kissing on the side of my neck. Yeah, she was in a white minidress, her thighs, ass, and creamy titties asking to be kissed on.
    Armando and Dough Boy seemed to be having some private conversation of the minds. Dough Boy brought out a stash of ducats and handed it to him. Told him that Dame had his back.
    But if you weren’t used to watching for small shit, like I was, you wouldn’t have seen Armando slipping Dough Boy additional money.
    Both niggas turned my way.
    Armando glanced at me then smiled. “You like my dolls, amigo ? Remember what we spoke on? Any time, you are welcome. I’ve been watching you in the streets, my man, and your word is bond. Anyway, sit back, enjoy yourselves, and tell Dame we’ll speak again later, to get this problem fixed. We appreciate the drop, Trigga, we really do. Adiós , I have other important manners to take care of. Mamacitas , take care of