“That’s right, lil’ cuz, get cho paypa,” Marquan smirked.
Marquan made his way through Los Angeles traffic on a Thursday night, taking the occasional pull of a half smoked Black & Mild. Having sucked on the end of the thin cigar, he blew out a cloud of smoke and left it wafting around inside the confines of the hood classic. When the smoke became too much for him to bear, he cracked the driver’s window and allowed the fog that inhabited his car out into the world.
Now, usually Marquan would have been blazing up that sticky icky, but he found that he wasn’t any good under the influence, when it came time to putting in work. He needed a clear head before he got down on a hit. If he went in for the kill half c****d, then chances were he wouldn’t make it back home. And he couldn’t allow that
