how come gangsters back then looked like bodybuilders

[Big Mel]

I remember that. He said they were killers who could not fight so guys were getting punked for their lunxh.

I also remember big Eugene saying guys from compton were raping their own homeys if they were young and weak.

Shows you that the crips and bloods and other street organizations are the byproduct of masonic magix designed to destroy the sanity and spiritual integrity of oppressed folks

Or they're just sadistic fakkit/predators. Choose your own adventure.

 

[Wacky D]

Your cousin Fleece Johnson ?

that’s some wild shyt I’d be ashamed to be related to a booty goon

chit, thats more protection for me on the streets or if i was to ever go inside.

besides, he was actually a great guy. its just that jail culture - particularly old school jail culture. and hes one who got dealt a bad hand in life and was in/out of jail from adolescence to AARP.

with that said, i wasnt surprised that he smashed dudes, but i was surprised to find out that he was strong-arming the booty. but then again, this was the '80s and i didnt know him until the '90s. i might not have even been alive when this happened. he prolly was a different person back then - or maybe not.

 

[Pop123]

Because chances are you was gonna touch that county or the pens and you had to carry yourself and the set the same way you was doing on the street with all the guns and shyt...but in there, throwing the hands well and breaking dudes apart was mandatory back then. You had to get swoll to establish dominance and fear...when you touch the street like that that same shyt is still established, people still respect it, it's just the guns come back into play so it means less.

Today you got these little needle neck drug addict kids just shooting shyt...when they goofy ass get suited up and sat down they become muslim or go thru withdrawals and shyt, housed with the f@gits and all that...or they just stay with the homies whenever they out the crib/cell, punk shyt...it's not "gladiator" shyt like that really no more, you had to be a lion to survive in jail in the 80's/90's if you were somebody

 

[bourgeoisie tall freak]

op have you not watched boyz n the hood?

 

[Long Live The Kane]

Flo Rida looks more tough than most rappers, plus he actually owns a Bugatti.

Bro, what the fukk are you talking bout



In a thread full of wild ass posts, this is the one that stood out to me...the fukk Flo Rida and his bugatti got to to do with this thread ....I haven't even heard the word Flo Rida in like five years

 

[Playaz Eyez]

Like other people have already said, instantly using guns wasn’t the norm, have to hand was. But when you’re 6’2” 115, a gun is a necessity

 

[duckbutta]

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.

Slid the nikka under the bed like a dresser drawer

 

[shawntitan]

Edit: Why is it so difficult to upload a picture here?

 

[Big Mel]

Anyone else CERTAIN they wouldn’t butt fukk a man if they caught prison numbers? Say I.


EYE.


Growing up in New York in the late 80’s through the 90’s I had TWO nightmare scenarios. Being slashed in my face or going to Rikers.


Didn’t stop me from doing dirt but I knew where to cap certain shyt within reason to increase the probability of never having to meet a razor or a goon at rikers.

 

[Big Mel]

If “he has enough booty for the both of us” doesn’t haunt you you may be a power bottom.

 

[King]

Back then pretty much all the older dudes had weights in their garages - it was just a man thing back then especially in the black suburbs in LA county

I have some uncles in my family that used to lift and hang out at muscle beach, if you didn’t have weights you’d be at your friends place lifting weights after school and shyt. I’m speaking from my folks era tho based off what I’ve heard

 

[Bruce LeRoy]

Stereoids and because prisons used to have weightlifting areas/stations with equipment.. once they removed all that alot of ex cons come home with big arms, flabby stomachs and chicken legs.

Anyone else CERTAIN they wouldn’t butt fukk a man if they caught prison numbers? Say I.


EYE.


Growing up in New York in the late 80’s through the 90’s I had TWO nightmare scenarios. Being slashed in my face or going to Rikers.


Didn’t stop me from doing dirt but I knew where to cap certain shyt within reason to increase the probability of never having to meet a razor or a goon at rikers.

That's because the people that do it already want to do it alot of them were sexually abused themselves CYA is the worst when it comes to that shyt too..

There are plenty of folks in there that don't engage in that shyt and have been in there for decades.

 

[altruicsense]

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.

 

[MalickSyXShabbaz]

It gets more disgusting

Monster: The Autobiography of an L.A. Gang Member Part 7 Read online free - WuXiaLeague

They were enamored by "queens" and fell into somber sleep after "the days excitement "

 

[Alvin]

I posted this before, but this is still when fighting actually mattered, also opiates wasn't really a thing to do back then. None of the guys you posted are "built" they all have a good size on them though and are vicious when it comes to hands and gunplay.