Thug Motivation 101

What I learned early on is that your word and your reputation carries you far, not just in corporate America. It also applies to the so called “streets” which could mean anything. It’s basically how I started collecting and selling guns early on before I turned 21, but life was wild way before legal drinking age. At least for a quasi-suburbanite like me.

When you’re young and dumb, you don’t really think about the consequences. The main motivation was to feel protected while me and my partner were pushing weed and pills. Well, that was partially it along with procuring “ops” along the way when you’re part of a larger crew. I’ll call it a “crew” and use the term “ops” since I think that’s what the cool kids are using these days.

Young Life

I knew a small time weed dealer at school and word got to me that he was selling a Glock. Contrary to what people may hear, money may talk but it also takes a bit of work to get to a decent firearm. He seemed like a low budget version of Tony Robbins so might be why I got fooled but he said he could get it for me. Only thing was, I had to front the money. Like a fool, I did. No history with him, no personal dealings…but it seemed easy, almost too easy.

Big Mistake.

During school, I would see him roaming the hallway and would stop him occasionally to see where the piece was. Initially, he said he didn’t have time to go meet with his dealer but it started to feel weird. Weeks went by and it became excuse after excuse. Finally, I had a mutual friend ask him for me. The mutual friend came back and told me he was bragging about ripping me off. He probably told me because him and I had history back to our elementary school days.

I couldn’t let it go.

This will end up turning out to be a common theme but I grabbed two people, a buddy and another guy from a different “crew” and decided to visit his house. They brought knives but thinking back on it…if the guy really had a gun, that was seriously bringing a knife to a gun fight.

I went to go knock on his door and his dad answered. I politely asked to see his son and the father was none the wiser. The son then came to the door and I put it to him like this. You ripped me off because you thought I was a punk and you know it. There are two guys behind me near the street twirling knives around who are ready to grab you. Now how are we going to fix this.

I’ve never seen a man as big as Tony Robbins shake like that. He said he didn’t have money but offered to give up his car audio equipment. I confirmed the brand and said ok, that’ll do for now. I mean seriously, that stuff was worth way more. Lol…unbelievable.

So off we went and I explained to the homies that this was worth way more. Problem is, how was I going to offload this? And to who?

I knew exactly who and it was a kid at school who was all about car audio. I felt a little dirty selling it to any of my friends for some reason. He wasn’t just the car audio guy, he was all about “Young Life” which is a Christian based bible study group thing. I’m not exactly sure what it was but I knew he was all about it and quoting bible verses all over his social media back then.

When I approached him, he was a bit skeptical. He wasn’t the country bumpkin that he might have appeared to be. He kept asking, so where did you get it? And how come you don’t have the box and papers? I said look, I got it from a friend and it’s not stolen (as far as I knew and I was not going to ask). I quickly changed the subject to Young Life and asked him about his shirt and stickers with YL etched all over it. I said I go to a Korean church myself. I know, I’m going to hell for this.

Maybe that was what tipped him over the edge but he offered to buy the equipment for cash so he could give it to his older brother as a Christmas present. I really hoped it wasn’t stolen but who would ever find out.

Subway + Apartment Locator

Life is funny but it always presents itself with an opportunity when you’re not looking. Based on that bad experience, I almost gave up and thought I would just roll around naked. Hell, I was barely old enough to drive anyways. But after meeting a wannabe rapper who I will call Eminem in an “alternative” school for bad kids, things started to change.

It initially started with buy ounces of weed, not exactly bricks. He was the facilitator and became sort of an Apartment finder. He would locate weed dealers for us in exchange for a small fee. I thought it was a bit ridiculous but he offered up his home as a meet up point. He wasn’t Tony Robbins, and in fact was very blunt in saying that would cap all of us if we ever disrespected his home. Alright Marshall Mathers, understood.

Me and old partner were always on time and good with the money. Every single time. In fact, that’s why Eminem liked us so much. Obviously we brought our own scale and some of his connections tried to stiff us. He made sure we were made right on the spot. After about a dozen deals or so, it became clockwork and there was trust built.

One day, he asked if we were looking for any guns. I was like, hell yeah? He said he had a connection in the hood that was selling an Uzi variant (exact model withheld because I’m paranoid). Thing was, he wasn’t comfortable bringing that guy to his house. So what did we do? We had a mutual friend who was a manager at Subway shut down the restaurant at night for us. I’m not kidding.

Me and my partner, Eminem, and the Subway manager all sat in the dark in the main dining area waiting for this guy to show up. This isn’t exactly weed and I was a bit nervous. Eminem basically whispered to me, I don’t trust these types of people. Seriously? Mr. White Rapper saying that NOW?

Big black guy shows up and is right on time with a bag. We inspect it, pretending like we know what we’re looking at and we hand over the cash. He counts it and leaves immediately. Deal is done and off we go to the secluded woods to test fire. Shit works flawlessly. I won’t go into any details about modifications because that will get the Feds on you.

Training Day

Maybe I didn’t learn my lesson that day but Eminem comes back a short while later and says he’s got another homie selling a small pistol. I’m intrigued so I agree to go grab it. The catch? He was going to drive me to the Mexican hood to go inspect it and pick it up.

A lot of thoughts ran through my head at that point. He was insisting we had to go in his car and we couldn’t just show up unannounced. Was he trying to set me up? It wouldn’t be in his interest since I was his piggy bank at the moment. He was taking a cut of everything me and my partner were buying. Plus, we had done so many deals together at this point.

I ended up going with him and we go into this apartment complex that looked like a trap house. Well, maybe a little bit nicer than a trap house but we end up going into a bedroom. Ok, now there are about 5-6 gang bangers surrounding us, all looking at us. One reaches into a draw and pulls out the piece. Looks ok to me and I’m hoping there’s not a body on it but I fork over the cash and we’re out. Seriously, it was like the scene from Training Day as they’re walking up the stairs to the house.

He later brought over what he called “armor piercing” ammunition for me to buy. I said what the heck and ended up buying a few boxes. We were in the parking lot and I accidentally dropped a few boxes in his trunk and the rounds went everywhere. He looked at me and said, “No offense, but I’m not touching it. You need to pick it up. I don’t want my fingerprints on it.” Seriously? After all this time? I understood though.

Pho

We eventually got out of the weed business because it’s a headache and not much money from it. At least for us. I never understood how people make it profitable unless you’re pushing real weight. It smells, takes up a lot of space, shit dries up, but your customer base is a little more friendly.

That’s why we ended up getting into the pill business after securing a direct line to a Vietnamese supplier himself. Like clockwork, we were always right with the money. Never a dollar short, and never late to the meetings. There was also consistency, showing up week after week to buy in bulk. Not majorly serious weight, but we gradually started buying more and more on a regular basis.

Not sure why it didn’t dawn on us earlier but we randomly asked him if he knew anyone selling guns. He looked at me like I was crazy, of course he did. We’ll call him Benny Hynn…miracle worker. Benny asked what I wanted and I said a pistol. He said sure and he took a few days to find me one. He called one day and said to meet him in front of the Pho restaurant. I’m not kidding, the irony…I wish I was making this up.

Me and my partner go to meet him and it’s actually a quality piece, not like the throwaway from the cholos. He’s giving it to us at a good price, and I knew he wasn’t making much off of it. This was a side favor for being a loyal customer. As we were picking it up, he looked at me straight in the eye and said this. “You know 9mm doesn’t go through walls. AK rounds do. I can get you one.” Oh man, this is not the Vietnam War.

BigXThaPlug

Eventually another friend hooked us up with a country dude who lived in a super rural area. I’m talking where the streets don’t have signs and you have to just know the roads. I know, it’s weird. At first, I gave my friend money to go buy a few pieces here and there but eventually the guy was comfortable enough with me to go meet him at his place.

Why was I doing this?

I couldn’t be scrounging around for random one off pieces here and there. I wanted to buy more in bulk at a time. This guy ended up fitting the bill.

I show up to his place with my buddy and he literally starts bringing out like 50 guns. I’m not joking. It’s covering the entire coffee table and then some on the couches. He tells me to go pick out a few and test fire it in the front porch. It’s so rural that people just shoot their guns in their yards. I fire one or two and end up buying a couple before I make the trip back.

Before I leave, his little son walks into the room. The kid can’t be more than like 5 years old. Dad makes him introduce himself to us and then hands him a bottle of beer. The son then down the entire bottle in one sitting. Me and my friend are in shock. Seriously. The dad is cheering the son on and is proud of him. I packed up my guns and left, a little unnerved to be honest.

War Dogs

In this weird journey to be the next Korean War Dogs, I found out that the preppy, weed-smoking football linebacker turned out to the shadiest one of them all. I never got clipped by the black gangster at Subway, by the cholos in the hood, or the Vietnamese gangster in front of Pho. Not even the country psycho while meeting him out in the rural area of bumfuck nowhere. I would literally have no idea how to describe the location to anyone if I was in trouble.

That original scumbag not only reminded me of Tony Robbins, but someone who could pass for an investment banker on Wall Street. He had that slimy swag, witty vernacular, and preppy presence. Most of all, he was a thief and con artist just like all the assholes on Wall Street.