Yesterday, I got robbed at gun point! Not really, but for a few minutes after the fact, that’s what it felt like. This shit got me hot, so I’m writing about it to soothe my nerves. A’ight, so I sold something yesterday for an appreciable amount of money. When I was counting the cash, the buyer kept trying to help me count. I had to tell this nigga three times that I needed to “count the money my way”, before he somewhat stopped interposing. My third time informing the buyer that his interruptions were throwing me off was the third time I restarted the count. I won’t disclose the amount of the sell. But again, it was an appreciable amount. Among the legal tender, only 51% was $100 bills. Then, it was 14% $50 bills, 34.5% $20 bills, and .5% $10 bills. How do I know this? Because I’ve obviously done the math. Basically, a motherfucker got me for $10! And this is how it happened. After I finished counting all but 65% of the money, the seller added small amounts of mixed denomination bills to two separate stacks of cash, attempting to even out the amount of money in those stacks. But when he was supposed to grab two $20 bills and one $10 bill, he either intentionally or accidentally failed to add the $10 bill when trying to even out one of the stacks of cash. So, he pocketed that $10 after it seemed, to him, like it was surplus cash. But really, after I counted the money for the fourth time when I got in the house, it was $10 short. I’m giving the nigga the benefit of the doubt because he had gray hairs in his beard and it seemed like he wasn’t too familiar with the type of transaction that transpired. Maybe he was a little slow? But part of me feels like the motherfucker pulled some sleight of hand shit on me. Who likes getting got? Nobody! But this could have been an honest mistake, right? And it’s only $10, huh? At first, I was mad at myself, and I blamed the prior day’s vape session for the brain fog that could have potentially caused me to miscount the money. But in actuality, I was just trying to stop myself from being angry over a possible, minor $10 theft. Why is it the little, trifling things that makes us progressively angrier as time passes? Why am so mad over $10?! I’m not going to act on this anger, of course. But if “The Purge” ever becomes a real event, that Alabama nigga is on my list! Along with George Zimmerman, the bum-ass niggas who cut the chain and stole me and my sister’s bikes from the carport when we were in elementary school (that shit still got me hot, too), and a long list of others. I’m just saying!
Have you ever sat and thought about all the fucked-up things you’ve done? One time, I got a nigga for $300, when I was buying the last Monte Carlo SS I had. I took an Uber ride a whole hour and a half from my house to purchase the car. It was a little rougher than the seller described, so I tried to negotiate the price down a little bit, but the guy wouldn’t budge. So, I simply gave him $300 less than his asking price and hoped he was as dumb as he looked. Y’all, three different dumb-ass niggas counted that money, and none of them noticed it was $300 short! I swear, that’s a true story. I literally laughed my ass numb the entire hour and a half drive back home. Or maybe the long ride made my ass numb? Either way, it was funny as fuck, to me. Also, I ended up selling that Monte Carlo SS to the one and only, Donkmaster. If you don’t know Donkmaster, he’s like the black Hulk Hogan of big rim drag racing. And he owns a shop, In and Out Customs, which is located in South Carolina. I reside in Georgia. One day, a guy called me, inquiring about the 1986 Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS I had for sale. Yes, that thang had T-tops! And it was black with the original stripe kit and the OG gray interior. The caller was a customer of In and Out Customs, Donkmaster’s shop, and his Monte Carlo had caught fire when the shop was closed. So, Donkmaster had to replace the customer’s car. And the customer called me to link me with Donkmaster. A few days later, Donkmaster came and picked up the car. At the time, he was a big deal in the old school car community and big rim racing, but he wasn’t the illustrious character he is now. Side note, who is gassing these grown-ass crack babies nowadays?! G-body prices are so fucking ridiculous now, I’ll probably never buy another one! I’ve owned at least 20 old school GM cars. A few years ago, I downright repulsed newer cars. But certain shit, shit that you once loved, will eventually get old and boring. However, now I miss old school cars and I’m getting back into them. “Old habits die hard” is an idiom used to describe how difficult it is to terminate habitual acts. Is that why we hold on to bullshit sometimes—because it’s a habit? I think that’s the reason.
Let my petty anger at losing $10 serve as a reminder that shit ain’t always as serious as we try to make it. We all know people who would have too much pride to even admit that they fucked-up their money or allowed someone else to fuck-up their money. That same pride compels people to blow situations out of proportion, which commences many of the world’s nigga-moments. Money is the root of all evil, but pride is the origin of all sins. I just made that up, don’t jack my shit! And to reiterate for clarity, with niggas, petty anger is an overriding mainspring that initiates and perpetuates a slew of repetitively senseless acts! Luckily for me, I make a habit of thinking before I act. So, because thinking is an old habit of mine that hasn’t died, I’ve been able to avoid all types of unnecessary nonsense. Speaking of unnecessary nonsense, let’s take 50 Cent, for example. Firstly, I fucking hate 50 Cent! He’s just a bitch-ass nigga, in my opinion. I’ll explain why. 50 Cent once started beefs with Jadakiss and Fat Joe just because they created a smash hit with Ja Rule. We all know how pride can turn rap beefs deadly in a heartbeat! 50 Cent attempted to sabotage The Game’s career because Game was becoming a bigger artist than 50 wanted him to be. What type of bitch-ass nigga harbors jealousy and uses envy as incentive in acting to ruin a person’s life?! 50 Cent burned down his baby’s mother’s house, laughed and joked about it, and left his oldest son without a place to stay. Then, after Rick Ross called out 50 Cent for the arson, 50 sourced and released revenge porn of one of Rick Ross’ baby-mamas, who had absolutely nothing to do with the situation. Tell me that ain’t first-rate fuck-shit! Not to mention how he sits and cyberbullies other celebrities without justification. The motherfucker is a narcissistic, sociopathic, self-centered, straight up fucking weirdo! And if you can’t see it, it’s probably because of your sympathy for or similarities with 50 Cent’s fuck-shit! And if you sympathize or share similitude with five-star fuck-shit, good luck! What’s your main goal in life? The answer to that question should never be as long and drawn-out as my blog posts. The answer should be as simple as survival. That sounds like some shit a rapping-ass nigga would say, right? Rappers, the most dying-est niggas on Earth, probably rap about survival more than anything else. Both Drake and Eminem, the two biggest rappers of all time, have songs simply titled, “Survival”. But pride and pettiness are often antithetical to survival. Let that shit go!