Tales from da Hood Read Online Free PDF Page B

leave the mall, we run into Lil Mo. She is looking good. She has on a pair of stop-traffic Tommy Hilfiger coochie cutters and a Tommy halter top. Them muh-fucking shorts are squeezing her thighs so tight, I think that any moment her circulation is gonna be cut off in her legs. Every nigga in the mall that walks by stops dead in they tracks to look at her fine ass. Man, shorty is rocking a pair of white on white Flavs. Flavs are Nike sneakers. The niggas in Richmond named 'em Flavs 'cause you can get them in all types of colors. White on white, white with blue stripe, white with yellow, white with green, or whatever. Niggas up north don't know nuthing about Flavs. That's Richmond, Virginia's shit. We've been rocking them muh-fucking Nikes for bout 150 years. Lil Mo walks over to holler at us since Nessa is her client and shit.
    “Hey, Nessa, what's up?” she asks, looking at me but talking to Nessa.
    “Ain't nothing, girl. Me and my man in here shopping for tonight,” Nessa says, holding that goddamn Dolce & Gabanna bag under her arm like somebody wants to steal it or something.
    “You know the club on Broad Street reopens tonight,” Lil Mo asks, or makes a statement. It reminded me of my conversation with her nigga Turk. Them mutherfuckers be talking stupid and shit. You fuck around with them, you don't know if they asking you or telling you something.
    “Yeah, shorty,” I jump in, 'cause I don't plan on being in the mall all night talking to Lil Mo's ass. “Are you talking about Ivory's?” I ask her directly. See, I know how to phrase a muh-fucking question. I don't know what the fuck her and Turk be doing.
    “Yeah, baby, Ivory's, just like the soap, and I'm gonna get my man tonight 'cause Turk ass is out of town and I'm on vacation for a week,” she says, skipping around like she's in a reggae video or something. I'm checking shorty out, and it is obvious she is interested.
    “Well, we might check it out if we ain't doing nothing,” Nessa says, though she knows damn well her ass is gonna be busy even if I'm not.
    Lil Mo offers us a ride back to the pj's, and I accept. She's pushing a 1993 Silver Isuzu Rodeo, and the broad has replaced the wheel cover on the back of the truck with a spray-painted picture of Turk. I think to myself, This is some 'Bama ass shit right here. No wonder muh-fuckers be thinking Richmond country and shit. Muh-fuckers like this give the city a bad name.
    I jump in the backseat, 'cause after that shit with my lil bro, I just don't trust anybody, so I never ride shotgun, no matter who the fuck I'm riding with. Rule in the streets, you don't ride shotgun with people you don't know well enough to trust. Lil Mo pumps up the AC and cranks up the sound system. She plays “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot, and her and Nessa have some type of girly competition,singing, “I like big butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny”
    Lil Mo is humping up and down while holding onto the steering wheel. Then she raises up out of her seat and starts shaking her ass while driving. I laugh to myself 'cause I know she's putting on a rodeo show for Big Daddy. I sit up and peep over Nessa's seat to see if the truck is an automatic. I get my answer, then sit back and slide down in the chair, thinking to myself, Yeah, this bitch can drive a stick.

FOUR
    I GIVE NESSA a serious pep talk before we get to Broad and Allen. I hold her chin in my hand, look her dead in the eye without blinking, and say, “Look here, Nessa, I'm not putting up with that slow-walking shit tonight. You better strut yo ass like you're a mutherfucking runway model or else I'ma beat your ass down to the mutherfucking ground out that mutherfucker! Now do you understand?” I let go of her chin after giving the bitch her last and final warning.
    I'm rocking my new shit, and Nessa has on the tight black minidress and a pair of sexy-ass black sandals with stiletto heels that she purchased from Saxon Shoes. We reach our