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

yo’ grind and get it/ The world is yours and every bitch in it/ get out there, get on yo’ grind and get it. Aaaaay” 
      Ant D and Mike rapped along with “Mr. 17.5” while counting the blood money stacked on the bed.
                 Two and a half hours later, Mike counted the last stack of currency, and wrapped it with a rubber band, bringing the total count to 635,500 dollars. There wasn’t any work inside the safe, but 635 stacks was more than they had anticipated getting from Twan anyway.
    Tired and exhausted, Mike sat on the floor with his back against the bed. “Goddamn, that was a lot of work,” Mike said.      
                 “You ain’t bullshittin’. It took mo’ work to count that shit than it did to get it from that fuck nigga Twan,” Ant D stated with a yawn. The exhaustion was evident in his voice, and on his tired face.
                 “Yeah, we been plottin’ on that nigga for a lil’ minute. I ain’t think he would ever show Meka where the stash was at.”
                 “Nigga, is you crazy? Man, there ain’t too many muh’fuckas on the face of the earth that can resist my sister, dog. I knew as soon as she got down wit’ that clown, that it was only a matter of time befo’ she broke his lil’ weak ass down.”
                  Just then, Meka strutted into her brother’s room. Fresh out of the tub, and smelling like Johnson and Johnson’s baby lotion, she had on an old pair of orange    Carolina High School gym shorts and a tank top, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes got big as quarters when she spotted the large stacks of bills on the bed. “How much was it?” she asked, anxious to get her cut.
                 “600 and some change,” Mike said, his voice betraying the fatigue him and Ant D both felt. Neither one of them had slept much the past few days, staying up on No Doze, coffee, and pure adrenaline.
                 “So, how much is mine,” Meka asked with her hand on her hip, alternating glances between Mike and her brother.
                  Ant D gathered up 150 of the thousand dollar stacks, and handed them to his sister. “That’s 150 right there, sis. That’s you. But Meka, don’t be spending a whole bunch of paper right now. This shit is still fresh in the streets. Give shit a minute to cool down.”
     Meka completely ignored what Ant had just said. She started to argue for a bigger percentage, but ultimately decided against it. Besides, she knew if she really needed anything, her brother and Mike would hold her down. She went ahead and took the 150 grand, and walked into her room smiling.  She was already making plans for the upcoming week.
                  It was now 3:30 A.M. that Sunday morning. The strain from the previous day’s events was apparent on both Ant D and Mike’s faces. They gathered the remaining money together, and put it in an old book bag of Ant’s. Then they placed it in the back of his closet, under some old clothes.
      “Tomorrow we gon’ take lil’ Joe’s car back, and for the rest of the month, we just gon’ lay and chill. See what the word is on the street, ya dig?” said Ant D, tiredly.
                  “I’m wit’ that homey. Ain’t no telling what type of fallout there gon’ be behind this shit. But as soon as shit cool off, you know we gotta take these lames to class, and teach ‘em how to stunt fa’ real.”
                 “Oh, you already know that, my nigga, that’s mandatory. But right ‘bout now, I’m tired as fuck,” said Ant, his words beginning to slur. “We been up for damn near two days straight, so I’ma get at you in the morning…or afternoon. Or whenever the fuck I get up. Shiiiiiiiit, I might sleep all day tomorrow,” Ant D yawned.
       He lay down on his bed, not even bothering to get undressed. As soon as his face hit the cool surface of