Before guns became so accessible, people had to throw hands to settle problems on the streets. OGs and the generation after them had a lot of guys who lifted weights.
Before guns became so accessible, people had to throw hands to settle problems on the streets.
Because prison rape was rampant.
The following is an excerpt from Monster kodys book
And when I looked at B.T. his expression was one of utter helplessness. I felt a little sorry for him, but I was a hard-line conservative and felt that this was the life he’d chosen. Unlike the slaves, he had joined the Crips. He knew the job was dangerous when he took it. Module 4800—this testing ground—was for some a breaking station. We had started calling it Forty-eight Hours, because if you could survive the first forty-eight hours—the noise, fights, stabbings, cross-burning by the pigs, tribalism, set tripping, interrogations, and being crossed, doubled-crossed, and triple-crossed—then you were in. B.T. couldn’t handle it and froze up on the first occasion of hand-to-hand and knife-to-body combat. He’d left his homies out there alone—a fatal mistake. Now his homies left him to Fat Rat’s desires.
“Monsta, you can go on to sleep now, cuz. I can handle it from here.”
Fat Rat said this as if I’d actually been helping him work B.T. over.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll kick on back now. I’ve seen enough for today.”
I knew what Rat was up to. He was ready to sodomize B.T. and felt reluctant while I was awake. It made me feel like a conspirator. I hadn’t said a word in protest to Fat Rat about his treatment of B.T., and by not saying anything I felt like I was condoning it. Silence gives consent. When I opened my eyes to protest, Fat Rat had B.T. out from under the bed and was ready to rape him.
“Naw, Rat, I can’t let you trip that hard. Don’t do cuz like that.” I’d swung my legs over the side of the bunk and was looking directly at Fat Rat.
“Aw, Monsta, this ain’t got nuttin’ to do wit’ you, homie. Hey look,” he said, grabbing B.T. on the ass, “he got enough ass fo’ the both of us, Monsta.”
“Stall cuz out, Fat Rat. You done already ruined him in the gang world. He can’t go home. Now you wanna take his manhood, too? Stall him out, Rat.”
“Damn! Monsta…”
Fat Rat looked genuinely disappointed. I guess he figured he had done all of this and rightly deserved a piece of ass. But I couldn’t let that happen, not while I was in the cell. Fat Rat slid B.T. back under the bed and went to sleep.
Because they were bodybuilding
Because prison rape was rampant.
lol.
dead-ass this excerpt reminds me of the story i heard about my cousin who was about to rape one of my pops' friends upstate back in the '80s. he was sizing him up. when he asked him where hes from, that basically saved him, cuz not long afterwards - the connection to my dad was made and they got cool. he prolly protected him too.
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Because prison rape was rampant.
The following is an excerpt from Monster kodys book
And when I looked at B.T. his expression was one of utter helplessness. I felt a little sorry for him, but I was a hard-line conservative and felt that this was the life he’d chosen. Unlike the slaves, he had joined the Crips. He knew the job was dangerous when he took it. Module 4800—this testing ground—was for some a breaking station. We had started calling it Forty-eight Hours, because if you could survive the first forty-eight hours—the noise, fights, stabbings, cross-burning by the pigs, tribalism, set tripping, interrogations, and being crossed, doubled-crossed, and triple-crossed—then you were in. B.T. couldn’t handle it and froze up on the first occasion of hand-to-hand and knife-to-body combat. He’d left his homies out there alone—a fatal mistake. Now his homies left him to Fat Rat’s desires.
“Monsta, you can go on to sleep now, cuz. I can handle it from here.”
Fat Rat said this as if I’d actually been helping him work B.T. over.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll kick on back now. I’ve seen enough for today.”
I knew what Rat was up to. He was ready to sodomize B.T. and felt reluctant while I was awake. It made me feel like a conspirator. I hadn’t said a word in protest to Fat Rat about his treatment of B.T., and by not saying anything I felt like I was condoning it. Silence gives consent. When I opened my eyes to protest, Fat Rat had B.T. out from under the bed and was ready to rape him.
“Naw, Rat, I can’t let you trip that hard. Don’t do cuz like that.” I’d swung my legs over the side of the bunk and was looking directly at Fat Rat.
“Aw, Monsta, this ain’t got nuttin’ to do wit’ you, homie. Hey look,” he said, grabbing B.T. on the ass, “he got enough ass fo’ the both of us, Monsta.”
“Stall cuz out, Fat Rat. You done already ruined him in the gang world. He can’t go home. Now you wanna take his manhood, too? Stall him out, Rat.”
“Damn! Monsta…”
Fat Rat looked genuinely disappointed. I guess he figured he had done all of this and rightly deserved a piece of ass. But I couldn’t let that happen, not while I was in the cell. Fat Rat slid B.T. back under the bed and went to sleep.
This is why gangsterism and everything associated with it, im convinced, is directly from the devilThis is some sick sick shyt….
If you remember the part about prison, he said that he had to have a fight club/training camp for members of his set.The following is an excerpt from Monster kodys book
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