Friday, May 1, 2009

"She's Dead" - Chronicles Of A True Hustler Pt. 4

Previously: Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

T is a beast with his very personal and true story. Here with another installation is Part 4 of Chronicles Of A True Hustler:

She's dead. She was drug free but died of an overdose at the age of 14. The pastor who presided over her funeral referred to her as ______ ______, but we all knew her as Deucey. What the pastor neglected to mention in his sermon was that Deucey was the original Around The Way Girl before L.L. cool J would coin the phrase. She was Lil' Kim before there was even a Notorious B.I.G.

Barely out of junior high school, Deucey was a foul-mouthed, rail-thin cutie who was the first to wear Van tennis shoes and peg leg Guess jeans in Page Street Projects. She was what we called "light-skinded", her complexion matching that of Angela Davis but instead of Black Power, she hungered for the power of the dollar. Her hair was nappy, dirty-blonde, which she wore in her trade marked style, braids and beads, whose colors matched her outfits and clink-clanked as she bopped down the street.

Most people thought that a young girl like Deucey, out in the streets well past a good girl's curfew had to be lost, turned out or both. But Deucey knew exactly where she was and where she stood. Known for poppin' more bullshit than bubble gum, niggas on the turf respected her. She earned her stripes the same way they did, by getting money, keeping niggas up off her and never letting a bitch step outta line. She could play chase with cock-strong youngstas as easily as she could outrun the police. Deucey was real.

Armed with an entirely different kind of ghetto pass, Deucey was one of the only youngstas, let alone females, who could grind in Page Street Projects, also known as Tha Capital, well into the morning hours without fear of crackheads, jackers, J-Cats or snitches fucking with her business. Deucey was a hustler. But Deucey was just a little girl, just past puberty. In another place or time she might be practicing Double-Dutch, reciting schoolgirl rhymes or reading Nancy Drew. But what happened to Deucey was no mystery. She made one faulty decision and lost her life to the game.

"Po, po comin'. Here they come," echoed through the projects in a hushed alarm as everyone scattered, trying to run without moving too fast or walk without moving too slow. No one wanted to draw unwanted attention as they tried to outrun the law and beat the laws of averages. The Narcs were going to catch somebody and you just hoped it would be somebody else. And if it was your turn to catch a collar, you did your best to make sure you were empty handed.

Deucey knew the protocol. With the Narcs in full pursuit and the exits from the projects blocked, shew knew she had to get rid of her dope. But once the Narcs had suspects in custody they would comb the area, searching for every spec, every crumb to try and pin on someone. So she decided to swallow her package, thinking she could shit it out later, like mules do. Thing is, her dope wasn't in balloons or tied securely in cut-up rubber surgical gloves the way mules smuggle contraband in and out of San Quentin or Pelican Bay. Here dope was in a glad sandwich bag.

The acid in her stomach slowly began to eat through the plastic sending multiple grams of pure rock cocaine rushing into her bloodstream. First, she noticed a funny buzzing feeling in the pit of her stomach but by then it was already too late. Attempts to vomit proved futile as she dryheaved repeatedly. Nothing came out.

Deucey's senses became acute. Her skin, now hypersensitive, began to sweat as she experienced hot flashes. Her hearing intensified, picked up children playing in the distance as if they were right in front of her. She could hear herself breath more quickly. Her heart raced as her body succumbed to the cocaine that was now overpowering her small frame. She began to go numb; first her lips, the tip of her tongue, then her entire throat. Her body hummed as she began to overdose. Soon her body would seize, her eyes rolling back in her head. foam gathered at the corners of her mouth as she lost the ability to swallow.

The sounds of people screaming her name, slapping her face, trying to help her regain consciousness, the chaos, calling for Paramedics, the sirens racing to the scene to save all faded to a dark, deathly silence. Deucey was dead.

Deucey's name was later spray painted on the wall in Tha Capital in memorium.


  1. whoa, that's just heartbreaking.

  2. Woaw I'm shocked !
    Big up from Paris, France

  3. All 4 of these are classics.

  4. Going anonymous, just like the author of this, cause there's some crazy folks out there that take shit too personal.

    This 4th part has me smelling the B.S. or "literary licence" hanging thick in the air, that I suspected from the hop.

    "Based" on a true story, perhaps, but something is not sitting right on this tale for it to get 100% whole truth status.

    Of course the same people that take the words in Rap as real life experiences are going to gobble this up without questioning it.

    Not going to make it my full time hobby to disprove, but don't be surprised when someone does.
    For your own rep, you need to go into fact checking mode and see where the truth lies and the story telling starts, before you continue to put your stamp on it.

    Up until this point, your own words and blog have had weight,credibility and could easily be verified.
    It would be a shame if someone else wrecks that for you.

  5. Nothing in this piece sounded that out of the ordinary for that time period, what exactly did you perceive as B.S?

    Its expected that the author utilises some artistic licence, how could he not?

    Anyway i enjoyed it ( u kno wat i mean) keep it up (II)

  6. Muhfukas always trying to knock the next nigga when he doing his thing. These stories, like rap music, are for entertainment. Wether you feel the shit is real or not, stop being a hater & just read it & enjoy it, if not then move the fuck on. Ol' hating ass, cry baby ass, dick in the booty ass, probably no pussy getting ass, jerking off in front of your computer ass nigga. A yo Combat, keep posting this shit. You always got something on here that many of us wanna read. Word to mother

  7. I agree there's some artistic license being stretched on this piece. No stomach acid burns through a sandwich bag. I guess it doesn't make much difference as the point of the story is this chick OD'd but still. Also to the dude above saying we're hating for calling dude out, it does make a difference cos I could write this shit and I havent lived this life.

    The point is we wanna read about T the hustler - apparently the Jay-Z of realty - not some regurgitated shit about a kid dying from an OD.

    To the writer: in future avoid trying to explain other people's experiences like how she felt as she was dying and stick to reciting YOUR experience. You don't know what she experienced as she died, and the fact you think stomach acid burns through plastic bags implies you are probably way off about what was going through her mind at the time.

  8. the fact you think stomach acid burns through plastic bags implies you are probably way off about what was going through her mind at the time.

    it's not always the case but that shit happens all the time:

    why u mad tho? if it bothers you that much, don't read it...

  9. Another nice post. Very captivating read.

  10. The point, regardless of whether it is a entertaining read(it is) or not, is it getting the "true story" stamp as well as being endorsed as such by CJ.

    If the writer has carte blanche to add whatever he wants to spice up the story and still call it a factual account, then one has to ask where the truth is and where the fantasy begins.

    I'm not saying this is the work of some 13 year old in front of a computer, I don't doubt that they came up in the time period and the scene they are writing about.

    I'm not knocking the writing abilities either.
    Just questioning if these are personal experiences,a 2nd hand collection or just straight up good story telling and a creation of the imagination.

    Some say "Who cares?", but the only thing I care about is the wreckless use of the word "true", as should be anyone that lives in a world of lies that are sold to us daily.

  11. So..... I'm just interested to know how this guy who is who thinks that you cant OD from swallowing dope in sandwich baggies? This is not something to brag about and I wish that I didnt have this story to tell but a few years back one of my "acquaintances" actually OD'd form the same shit happening. He swallowed a quarter of some soft and sure enough a little while later he died of an overdose in the parking lot of a well known family restaurant. The cause of death? Overdose of cocaine caused by the bag in his stomch breaking down and flooding his stomach with the junk. The saddest part is that I can tell you of two times this has happened (two different people). My point is dont come on here trying to call someones life experiences bullshit. Unless you lived that mans life who are you to speak on intruths?

  12. It's great to see everyone rallying around, yet the two people that should have been the quickest to speak on this, remain silent.

    I don't have a clue as to the effects of stomach acid on glad baggies, just like the writer doesn't have a clue as to what was going on in "Deucey's" mind and body in the three paragraphs.

    Sure, he can research and give his best guess, but that doesn't make a "true" story.

    This wasn't even the specific issue I was having, but needed to address, since some think it is.

    As I mentioned,I felt this in my gut since the get go, more style than substance, more description than dirt, this is writing by design and while there may be truths in part, there is not as a whole.

    I'm fine with it being what it is, as long as it is presented honestly, which I have doubts about at the moment.

    Call it what it is,true, based on your true,based on someone else true, or a great work of fiction.

    Just don't try to sell me a fat free, low calorie, pulled pork sandwich with diet gravy.

  13. duke, you said "and the fact you think stomach acid burns through plastic bags" like you knew that shit wasn't possible (which isn't true) and were trying to insult his intelligence. then you just said "I don't have a clue as to the effects of stomach acid on glad baggies"...

    Anyhow, I know where you're coming from with the whole he couldn't have known what the girl was feeling unless he was shit, way to state the obvious. everyone else read it, realized this, and took it how it was. i'm jus sayin, you're forcing the issue...

  14. 2 different Anonymous', but yes, forcing the issue, because the real question has not been answered.