There's no denying that Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Many light years ago, the Martians looked through their telescopes and discovered the beautiful Venusians. They fell in love and quickly invented space travel and flew to Venus. The Venusians welcomed the Martians with open arms and bright smiles. Then they decided to fly to Earth. In the beginning everything was wonderful and beautiful. But the effects of the earth's atmosphere took hold, and one morning everyone woke up with a peculiar case of amnesia. Both the Martians and Venusians forgot that they were from different planets and were suppose to be different. And since that day men and women have been in conflict. Marriage has given Venus Vs Mars a completely different meaning.

Mari looked over at Massy eyeing her. Massy tried her best to ignore her sister but she could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. "Mari, I do not have time to chase a VERY attractive 22 year old professional football player in the height of his career around New York all day." Massy said looking at her sister giving her a stern face so she knew not to continue to push the topic. Mari rolled her eyes and through her head back. "Oh my god, Massy you make a it sound like its a child, when you put it like that!" "IT IS MARI! A relationship is like a child! You have to love it, and nurture it, and feed it, and play with it when it gets bored! All that man can offer me right now is good dick and headaches." Massy said as she turned around and stirred the pot of spaghetti noodles. Mari puffed air through her lips. And held the tea mug up to her lips. "Pff, I'd happily take all that good dick and stock up on Tylenol."

"And Draya, Dollicia ... The rest of them?" Drake asked as his back was turned to her. Tae sat quiet again unsure of what he was really asking, what he really wanted to know that she hadn't already confessed about. "They were a 'at that moment' thing. That may sound bad, but yeah..." She said shrugging as he voice trailed off. Drake could tell she wanted to say more but he didn't force it. Tae sighed picking up on his silence and spoke again. "Some of them I dated before you got to them, some of them you dated before I got to them, some of them fucked with me while they fucked with you and vise versa." He turned around, she could feel Drake burning a hole in the side of her face. "You took this position KNOWING that we shared the same past... The same women... a lot of the same women, and you said nothing!? Why!? You didn't think that was something you should of mentioned to me!?... oh by the way Aubrey, you and I fucked with the same women!? I couldn't get that!? Are you trying to make them jealous!? You using me for a specific purpose?!..... Get back at them?!... You don't think this is information that I should of known Lashauntae!" Drake's voice grew dark it went deep as he demanded a answer. His many antagonizing malicious filled questions, he cross examined her, with a smug frown yet he wasn't allowing her the opportunity to answer him back, he was so angry assuming her was being used for something like all women eventually used him for.

“Your gangster is not defined by how low your jeans fall by your waist, but more how your genes stand up to its expectations. Never forgetting where we came from. Your gangster is not defined by how many rocks are in your watch, but rather how many rocks you move while on your watch. Gangsters, hustlers, republicans, democrats, pimps, and hoes. Conservatives, labor, the seller, the buyer, the product, the producer. See you are what you are in this world. The gangster is absorbed and adored by those that don't understand the laws that govern Gangsterment. Gangsterment allows you to make up your own laws and create brand new words. Gangster Mentality, an American way created by the white, mastered by the black, absorbed by the fiends, and taxed by the government. Charted by Forbes. If you believe in The Gangster Mentality then you too can be a gangster. By any means necessary. By owning that dream. I mean it's a long walk to freedom but, while deep, deep, deep inside the bush. Damn it feels good to be a gangster To be a gangster, swagger is not a must, it's a liability, a cliche, a bad suit, cut the bullshit. You know if it wasn't for this, there would be no that. Which we call. The American Gangster.

He only buys his companions of delight who sycophant to his rank, wealth, and ability to heighten sensory. He comes with guarantees. He can smell how weak you are. He can taste how close you are to giving in. He comes with a costly favor before you drop. Reading the fine print means nothing. You still have to honor your signature.