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Motivation: Mastering the Game by Swift
Ch 7 Excerpt
The call to Finesse wasn’t pleasant; when he told the nigga that he had his ex-bitch in custody, he could feel this dude’s heartbeat drop through the phone. Young Key hadn’t experienced this part of the game yet, but he knew it couldn’t have been sweet. And he was right, losing a hoe to another pimp (whatever the reason) was a disturbing blow to any mack. “I don’t know who you are player, but you ain’t got my bitch. If you do, put the hoe on the phone and let her make a disclaimer on a pimp her damn self,” Finesse said. His biggest fear had come true. After she didn’t check in at the room a week ago, he didn’t wanna think about it, but he knew she was gone. This was the only bitch that he had managed to hold on to for as long as he did in the last few years of his career. He may never knock a decent enough hoe to support his habit and keep him with enough money for at least a room every night. No he needed to talk to her! He was thinking, as the panic was getting heavier by the second. “So, you gone put the bitch on the phone or are you gone keep acting as a spokesman for this hoe?” Key could hear the desperation in his voice. He figured there was no harm in letting her tell him herself. She had already chosen up. He handed her the phone. “Tell this dude what’s happening.” As soon as she said, “hello” he could hear him on the other end cursing and calling her every hoe in the book. “I ain’t fucking with you no more, I’m wit Key now,” she said, and then handed the phone back to Key. “You satisfied, player?” “Fuck you, nigga,” he said as he hung up the phone. Finesse had no class mixed with poor sportsmanship and the game had no room for either if you wanted to be the best.
Ch 7 Excerpt
The call to Finesse wasn’t pleasant; when he told the nigga that he had his ex-bitch in custody, he could feel this dude’s heartbeat drop through the phone. Young Key hadn’t experienced this part of the game yet, but he knew it couldn’t have been sweet. And he was right, losing a hoe to another pimp (whatever the reason) was a disturbing blow to any mack. “I don’t know who you are player, but you ain’t got my bitch. If you do, put the hoe on the phone and let her make a disclaimer on a pimp her damn self,” Finesse said. His biggest fear had come true. After she didn’t check in at the room a week ago, he didn’t wanna think about it, but he knew she was gone. This was the only bitch that he had managed to hold on to for as long as he did in the last few years of his career. He may never knock a decent enough hoe to support his habit and keep him with enough money for at least a room every night. No he needed to talk to her! He was thinking, as the panic was getting heavier by the second. “So, you gone put the bitch on the phone or are you gone keep acting as a spokesman for this hoe?” Key could hear the desperation in his voice. He figured there was no harm in letting her tell him herself. She had already chosen up. He handed her the phone. “Tell this dude what’s happening.” As soon as she said, “hello” he could hear him on the other end cursing and calling her every hoe in the book. “I ain’t fucking with you no more, I’m wit Key now,” she said, and then handed the phone back to Key. “You satisfied, player?” “Fuck you, nigga,” he said as he hung up the phone. Finesse had no class mixed with poor sportsmanship and the game had no room for either if you wanted to be the best.
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