Finishing his verse up and stepping out of the booth yawning, Mel stretched and dapped his niggas up. They had been up just as long as he had and he appreciated the support. In most crews, some were made up of longtime friends, family, friends of the family, and so forth, but not his. The Wright family was big enough to where they didn’t need any outsiders. To them, that was the quickest way toward a downfall of any organization. Granted, they did have connections with some outside people, but they never got close enough to the inside. Only person who had been rocking with the fam was Pierre, and he was one of the main people in charge of running things.
“Nigga, let’s go get some breakfast,” his cousin Fatz said, struggling to stand up from the couch.
Hence the name, it fit him to a T. He had been off the lean all night and could barely walk, let alone stay awake. With the laws becoming more aware of the purple syrup everyone had seemed to start enjoying, Pierre found them a plug quick. Thanks to a pharmacist, he was breaking off from time to time; him and his niggas were able to sip slow and sell the shit easily.
“Yo fat ass always tryna eat,” Ricky, Mel’s younger cousin, joked.
“We been smoking all night nigga. I woulda had ya baby moms slide through with a plate, but we all know she can’t even boil water,” Fatz joked back, making everybody laugh.
This was how they acted 24/7, stayed cracking jokes and enjoying life. Don’t get it twisted though, when it was time to put in work, they were the first ones punching the clocks and getting to the money. The rap lyrics Shemel were spitting wasn’t just for his health. His niggas really lived that lifestyle.
“That ain’t even my baby man; fuck outta here,” Ricky said while laughing. His chick had been trying to pin a baby on him for the last year, and he wasn’t having it. She would be quick to put her hand out for some money, but not quick enough for a DNA test.
“Yeah okay. It’s cool cuz, we get it. She ain’t the baddest bitch walking. Don’t be trying to deny yo seed though,” Fatz said, finally getting up from the couch.
Everybody in the room, which was mainly his cousins, chuckled before gathering their things. While walking out the studio, they all agreed to go to Waffle House since it was closer. Plus, IHOP was only good for their pancakes. Everything else from the restaurant was considered trash to them. Hopping in their separate vehicles, they pulled off. Traffic was light out, considering it was a Sunday morning, and Mel was glad about it. He hated driving while he was tired, never wanting to get caught slipping. He wasn’t as heavy in the streets as he used to be, but he was still in them almost every day, grinding. He loved the fast money and praise he received from having the loudest weed or the best prices. He lived for this street shit and didn’t have any plans of getting out soon. He figured if he took off with his rapping career, he’d slow down some more, but until then, he was going to stay on his grind.
Taking up two booths in the almost empty establishment, Mel and his entourage, as he liked to jokingly call them, looked over the menu. It didn’t matter how many times they had been here to eat; they still looked over the menu like it changed.
Mel was ready to order and shifted around in the uncomfortable bench, showing his annoyance from not getting any sleep. Fatz and Ricky sat at the table behind him, discussing the waitress’ ass. She looked old enough to be all their mama’s put together, but was wearing her age well.
“Aye, she looks like Dee from the Wayans Brothers,” Fatz said, laughing.
“I put that on me she do. She thick as fuck too,” Ricky laughed, slapping hands with Fatz.
“She better put extra butter on my waffle too. They be trying give a nigga a little thing of butter for three waffles,” said Fatz.
“Nigga. You do not need no more butter. We gone have to use it all anyway to slide yo ass out this seat. You think you stuck now,” Ricky said, cracking up.
Fatz couldn’t even laugh without moving the tables in the process. He had maneuvered his way into the booth somehow and was chilling, but he already knew he was going to struggle getting out after he ate.
“My big ass shoulda sat at the counter,” he said, trying to scoot out, but failed.
Ricky had to wipe the tears from his eyes before responding, “Nah, you stuck now fam. Just chill. We’ll call the ambulance if you really can’t get out.”
They all had joked about him being overweight, but Mel knew it was serious. Fatz had always struggled with his weight when they were growing up, and when they really started making money, he put no limit on what he ate. Mel’s older brother, Omar, had offered him a gym membership where his wife worked, but he always declined. They weren’t going to force him to lose weight, but they would still encourage it.