Free ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) by Justin Amen Floyd

these clothes, and them hot ass pistols. ‘Bout how many bodies you think on them shits now anyway?” Ant D asked Mike.                                                                                                                                                       
                  “Probably enough to get a nigga put on Death Row, or a few life sentences. They was already hot when I got ‘em. And with all the niggas we done put under the dirt, it would be damn near impossible to know fa sho’. But you right, these muh’fuckas got to go. They too hot to keep holding… like we got licenses for these shits or somethin’,” joked Mike.                                                                                                                
                  After rapping with each other for a few more minutes and exploring the possibilities, both Ant D and Mike decided that breaking the pistols down, scattering the pieces, and letting their clothes go up in smoke would be the best move. 
                  After mutually agreeing on what to do, Mike got out the car, closed the door, and walked up the road to Gloria’s house. Ant D waited in the car for about ten minutes before grabbing the pillowcase out from under the front passenger seat.  He buried his nose deep inside the top of it and inhaled deeply, relishing the rich aroma of the money.  That was the smell of power.  He became intoxicated with the aroma.
                  Finally, he got out of the car with the pillowcase, and headed toward his mama’s house.  He decided to go in through the back door instead of the front like Meka and Mike had done, just incase anybody was watching. Once inside, Ant D walked down the short hallway to his room and dumped the contents of the pillow case onto his bed.
       Mike walked in behind him, holding a can of soda. He saw all of those dead presidents staring back at him, and went fool. “We rich, muh’fucka! We did it, nigga!” Mike yelled. “How much you think all this shit is?” he asked excitedly.
       His excitement was beginning to rub off on Ant. They had gone from stealing food out of grocery stores, just to have the proper nourishment to be able to think straight for the day, to sticking up the local gambling houses, to putting the extortion down on weak ass niggas.  They had done credit card fraud, and kidnapped niggas for ransom. You name it. Ant and Mike’s criminal history was extensive. They only involved Meka when it was really necessary.
    This lick was their biggest to date. They had set up and robbed one of the city’s biggest dope boys…and had gotten away with it. Hot damn!                                                                        
                 “I don’t know how much this is, but we damn sho’ fixin’ to find out!” said Ant D, now eager to know exactly how much they had licked for too.
       They both began to separate the money into stacks of 100’s, 50’s, and 20’s, and count their individual stacks.              
                  “Goddamn, nigga, go ‘head and put some music on while we countin’ this shit,” said Mike.
       Ant D got up and walked over to his dresser where he kept his Sony CD changer. After selecting disc #7, he turned the volume up on that classic Jeezy shit, “Thug Motivation 101.”
                  The rough, gravelly sound of Jeezy’s voice came blasting out of the surround sound speakers mounted strategically around Ant D’s walls. 
    “ The world is yours, and everything in it/ it’s out there, get on