Black Caesar

“I’m a street nigga.” That’s my motto in life. I’m the nigga you wanna be and the same nigga yo bitch wanna be with. I’m the all American reject who goes after mine. I knew I was ready to be ‘bout that life when I had to turn to street corners and petty theft to feed me and my brothers. The only times my mama spoke to me and my brothers was when she was getting’ ready to drop us off at our grandmamma house. She’d come home late smellin’ like whiskey, sweat, and misery. Then she’d take one look at us and get our clothes ready.
“I’m taking y’all to y’alls mama house.” In her mind, my grandmamma was our real mama. She was just placed in our custody fa the time being. Our grandmamma didn’t see it that way tho. When our mama’s car pulled up in front of grandmamma house, she’d sit on her porch puffing a loosey while she rolled her eyes to the back of her head. Mama neva ain’t even get out her car either. “I’ll be back,” she’d say then drove off. That ho never came back.
When my brother Khalil came back from the army talkin’ bout gettin’ in the dope game, I was wit’ it. The petty shit I was doing, slingin’ nickel bags of weed wasn’t cutting it no mo. And wit’ all our connects, we was fixin’ to get paid.
I was cool being his foot soldier for a few years at first. He took over things when Rondo, the boss we was first rollin’ wit’, went into the witness protection program afta snitching on like twenty of his homeboys. As far as everyone else knew though, Rondo was dead. Wit’ Khalil running things, he always made sure I had money in my pocket. Bitches to suck my dick when I needed it. Roof over my head. Shit was nice. But then, Khalil started keepin’ secrets. Mo money was rollin’ in but my cut stayed the same. I was doing most of the work. I can understand not cutting Blue in, that nigga ain’t do shit. But, as many times I took the rap for his shit. As many times as I got this nigga outta trouble when he coulda been facing 20 to life. Then the dude wanna bring in some new nigga and make his ass a lieutenant. I’m blood. He got Vladimir’s bitch ass making drops, having private meetings wit’ em and shit. What the fuck. I see how it is. Khalil gotta do for him, well best believe Ima do for me.

New Title

Since "Black Caesar" sounds done to death (Black Friday, Black Christmas, Black Scarface, there's even another Black Caesar), I've decided to come up with a new book title. As I mulled it over, the title "Dealin' Broken Promises" came to mind. Then at the same time, the title "Dealin' Broken Dreams" came to mind as well. So, now I'm torn. Either way, "Black Caesar" is no more. It's hard though. I've grown attached to the original title. I'm sad to see it go but in my quest to stay original, I must let it go.
Which leads me to my favorite saying, "Let go, let God." So long "Black Caesar."
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