Larry Lambo
Superstar
Facts. I'm sorry, they shouldn't be responsible for that man's death. S**t happens, it wasn't their fault.
Police officer dies after 50 ft fall, chasing suspect
- Thread starter Buckeye Fever
- Start date
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- Tags
- tarzan uhhhahhhuhhhh
Facts. I'm sorry, they shouldn't be responsible for that man's death. S**t happens, it wasn't their fault.
Gunz&Butta
All Star
This is why u have to stay in the gym brehs
. 50ft isnt a big deal
. 50ft isnt a big deal
Detroit Wave
Veteran
I guess pigs cant fly 
Detroit Wave
Veteran
Negged
Throwbacksample
All Star
Lmao...you think i care about a neg? This is just a website....you guys take this site seriously like this website is my life.Negged
I ate four fruit icy pops from Trader Joe’s. They were amazing. Now I have none 
This is worse than falling 50ft
This is worse than falling 50ft
thats some looney tunes shyt
Bart simpson
Served w/ no chill
Da
Damnit, you beat me to it. Had the perfect Wile gif lined up.thats some looney tunes shyt
pip77
Pro
Unpopular opinion, but RIP to the breh. A father of six. He might have actually been trying to help the community. And y'all in here praising his death 
Ricardo Davis, 44, was taken to a hospital after the fall Saturday, and was later pronounced dead. A father of six, Davis wasn’t paid for his position as an auxiliary officer. The role serves as a pipeline to employment as a full Washington Park officer, but he needed to graduate from a police academy first. He was set to begin academy work in two weeks.
Unfortunately East St Louis is far from a Utopia
Former NBA player talking about growing up in East St Louis:
Ricardo Davis, 44, was taken to a hospital after the fall Saturday, and was later pronounced dead. A father of six, Davis wasn’t paid for his position as an auxiliary officer. The role serves as a pipeline to employment as a full Washington Park officer, but he needed to graduate from a police academy first. He was set to begin academy work in two weeks.
Unfortunately East St Louis is far from a Utopia
Former NBA player talking about growing up in East St Louis:
When you pop out the womb in East St. Louis, it’s guns, drugs and danger, from start to finish. And I’m not saying that to brag or nothing. It’s just what it is. It’s the murder capital. And the thing about it is that it’s only 89 blocks.
So no matter who you are, or how much you try to keep your head down … there’s nowhere to hide. You’re in it. There’s no choice. Fact of the matter is, I had a lot of cousins who were street pharmacists. A lot of my people were Streets Disciples. It was what it was. You heard gunshots every night. Routine. You don’t know any different. But that’s the thing ― you might read about those kinds of places, or see them on TV. I don’t think the average person reading this in Montana or whatever understands what it’s like to be a kid in that environment.
You don’t have any dreams. You’re just thinking about survival.
I’ll give you a story. I was in sixth grade when those roll-away basketball hoops just started coming out. Before that, you had to nail a backboard to a light pole or whatever. But when the roll-away hoops came out, you could play wherever. So one day, we were playing in the middle of the street. Normal day.
All of a sudden, this dude comes walking out of one of the houses. And you could just tell by the way he was walking that something was about to happen. You develop a sixth sense for that kind of thing, even when you’re a little-ass kid. You got that PTSD Spidey Sense in your gut, like you’re in war or something. And just the way this dude was walking, I got this feeling like I should run.
But I didn’t run.
I mean, I didn’t do nothing wrong. What do I got to worry about?
He walks straight up to me.
Pulls out his gun. Puts it up to my forehead. And I remember I could see the bullet in that joint.
He’s saying something about a car.
The funny thing is, I can’t even remember what exactly it was all about. He thought somebody was trying to steal his car, or his car stereo, or his CDs, or whatever. It didn’t matter. In that moment, when you got a gun to your head, details don’t mean anything. Right and wrong don’t mean anything.
I was the youngest kid out there, but I was the biggest. So he came straight at me, thinking I was the leader. When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, you got one thing that can save you, and it ain’t reasoning with the man. It’s power.
When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, you got one thing that can save you, and it ain’t reasoning with the man. It’s power.
So I said, “I’m so-and-so’s son.”
I dropped my dad’s name.
He said, “What?”
I said, “I’m so-and-so’s son. I wouldn’t do this.”
My father wasn’t really in my life, but he was a known guy. His name carried weight. That was probably the only thing that saved me. The dude lowered his gun, told us to get the hell up out of there, and he went back inside.
But that’s not the end of the story. Like I said, this is East St. Louis. This is 89 blocks. There’s nowhere to hide. This dude could still get to me whenever he wanted. So I ran straight home and told my momma what happened, and she went and got her gun. Then she called all my cousins, and they rolled up on the dude’s house and popped the trunk.
When they pop the trunk on you, they’re coming in like Navy SEALs.
So they went in and sent the message.
And the message was, “You do not ever, in a million years, fukk with Ethel’s son again.”
Dude got the message, you feel me?
My momma had my back every single day. If she didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here. It’s ruthless. You can be minding your own business playing ball with your friends when shots start ringing out. It’s everyday. It’s routine. I’ve been shot at many times. I’ve got homies who are locked up, homies who are dead and gone, homies who got bodies on them like they’ve been in wars, for real.
So no matter who you are, or how much you try to keep your head down … there’s nowhere to hide. You’re in it. There’s no choice. Fact of the matter is, I had a lot of cousins who were street pharmacists. A lot of my people were Streets Disciples. It was what it was. You heard gunshots every night. Routine. You don’t know any different. But that’s the thing ― you might read about those kinds of places, or see them on TV. I don’t think the average person reading this in Montana or whatever understands what it’s like to be a kid in that environment.
You don’t have any dreams. You’re just thinking about survival.
I’ll give you a story. I was in sixth grade when those roll-away basketball hoops just started coming out. Before that, you had to nail a backboard to a light pole or whatever. But when the roll-away hoops came out, you could play wherever. So one day, we were playing in the middle of the street. Normal day.
All of a sudden, this dude comes walking out of one of the houses. And you could just tell by the way he was walking that something was about to happen. You develop a sixth sense for that kind of thing, even when you’re a little-ass kid. You got that PTSD Spidey Sense in your gut, like you’re in war or something. And just the way this dude was walking, I got this feeling like I should run.
But I didn’t run.
I mean, I didn’t do nothing wrong. What do I got to worry about?
He walks straight up to me.
Pulls out his gun. Puts it up to my forehead. And I remember I could see the bullet in that joint.
He’s saying something about a car.
The funny thing is, I can’t even remember what exactly it was all about. He thought somebody was trying to steal his car, or his car stereo, or his CDs, or whatever. It didn’t matter. In that moment, when you got a gun to your head, details don’t mean anything. Right and wrong don’t mean anything.
I was the youngest kid out there, but I was the biggest. So he came straight at me, thinking I was the leader. When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, you got one thing that can save you, and it ain’t reasoning with the man. It’s power.
When you’re looking down the barrel of a gun, you got one thing that can save you, and it ain’t reasoning with the man. It’s power.
So I said, “I’m so-and-so’s son.”
I dropped my dad’s name.
He said, “What?”
I said, “I’m so-and-so’s son. I wouldn’t do this.”
My father wasn’t really in my life, but he was a known guy. His name carried weight. That was probably the only thing that saved me. The dude lowered his gun, told us to get the hell up out of there, and he went back inside.
But that’s not the end of the story. Like I said, this is East St. Louis. This is 89 blocks. There’s nowhere to hide. This dude could still get to me whenever he wanted. So I ran straight home and told my momma what happened, and she went and got her gun. Then she called all my cousins, and they rolled up on the dude’s house and popped the trunk.
When they pop the trunk on you, they’re coming in like Navy SEALs.
So they went in and sent the message.
And the message was, “You do not ever, in a million years, fukk with Ethel’s son again.”
Dude got the message, you feel me?
My momma had my back every single day. If she didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here. It’s ruthless. You can be minding your own business playing ball with your friends when shots start ringing out. It’s everyday. It’s routine. I’ve been shot at many times. I’ve got homies who are locked up, homies who are dead and gone, homies who got bodies on them like they’ve been in wars, for real.
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606onit
Superstar
RIP to the breh
niccas gotta chill with going too ham on the job
niccas gotta chill with going too ham on the job