Game Over Read Online Free PDF

CEO’s and executives made the real money as opposed to the rappers and singers. Who would’ve known Jay-Z would turn out to be King. I could’ve been “King Bey” watching the throne, giving birth to the golden child. Not! Instead, I got Mr. Dash.
    Even though no one knows where he is now, back then Dame was getting money—period. He took me places that Smiley hadn’t, like on the set of videos where he and Jay would pop bottles of champagne on boats, have the flyest chicks and attract the jetsetters in the industry. We ate in expensive restaurants with names I couldn’t pronounce, had the best seats at the hottest shows, and always got special treatment at clubs like the Latin Quarters where we were surrounded by security. Jay hosted the party while Dame handled business as usual. I felt like a boss just standing next to him. Dame captivated me with his business moves. He opened up my eyes to new places and another world.
    I’d heard a lot in the streets about how Dame was arrogant and would get in your shit if you got out of line. But with me , I never saw that side of him early on. I definitely never saw him get that way with Jay. Understand that he would let you know he was in charge and that you needed to follow orders, but I think he got a bad rap for his attitude. There were rumors of him being flashy and wild but that didn’t happen much around me. That was for show: the Dame that surfaced in public, to dance in front of the camera or make a scene for reporters. The Dame I knew had his mind on building an empire, blowing up Jay-Z. He was about that cash, which he ran through like water, splurging on anything out of the ordinary, keeping wads of money in his pocket and funding his penthouse in some high rise in Fort Lee, New Jersey. The entire place was laced with mirrors, which was the shit back then. He even had a personal chef. The posh way he lived was crazy ! It was the type of shit I’d only seen on television. But what really bugged me out was the very first whip I saw him push. In ‘97, the hottest guys in the streets were riding Benzes and Beamers. But Dame took it to the next level. He swooped me up one day in a lavender four-door Bentley. That blew my young mind! I couldn’t relate. And as much as Smiley had taught me not to be a groupie—I was way too impressed. No one in the streets was doing it like that. To top it off, Jay pulled up right behind him in a blue Bentley coupe. Boss!
    I was quickly falling for Dame , but I wasn’t in love with him but with his swag and the way he lived so fabulously. My heart never allowed me to love a man since Smiley’s death. My relationships were about sex only, which I reserved for the select few— those who were financially well off. Dame had the money, he just sucked in the bedroom. I do literally mean sucked. He got off on licking me like a cat licks its newborn kittens. The memory of his tongue slurping in my ear, filling it with saliva still haunts me now. All that nasty wetness made the sex horrible. Still, Dame had that power, paper and the ability to show me things I’d never seen before.
    M y summer turned into a fairy tale. I was fresh up out the projects but got a chance to travel frequently. Most importantly, it felt like I was a part of something, something huge. Roc-A-Fella was growing and I was getting a chance to see it up close and personal. There was nothing like it. It also felt great to see black men getting money and finding success outside of the dope game. That was a huge reality check for me. Since most of the men I’d been around before Dame were heavy in the streets, my mind was conditioned to believe drugs and the streets were all there was for them. I’d even found myself asking Dame if the cars and clothes were all coming from music. “Yes,” he’d answer irritated with my questioning. It was hard to believe. I was still too young back then to understand just how businesses were built. Dame was showing me the