Featured Story, Prison Stories

Still Love the Dough

“Now, it’s all about cash in the abundance/niggahs I use to run with/is either rich or doing years in the hundredth”

“Life’s a Bitch”- Nas featuring AZ the Visualizer

I get money, money, money!! I get that shit in abundance!! That niggah Fifty Cent and Floyd Mayweather was copying my style when they called themselves and crew “The Money Team”… Why? Cause I get money, money, money!! I balled outta control out there in the free world, until the government came for me. The feds hit a niggah with 21 USC 848, Continuing Criminal Enterprise, and a few other big boy charges that got me these three life sentences. I really got two cause they had to set the 846 conspiracy to the side, can’t give me both the 848 and 846 convictions. I was getting money!!

I got almost, but not exactly 10 years in this fed shit, I’m fighting my case and shit, but guess what? I’m still getting money, money, money. Can’t stop, won’t stop, I still love the dough. I’m flooding the prison compounds with every drug possible known to man. I getz it in!! I got a ten man crew that tear that visiting room up as I sit there and watch it go down and I got people in two other fed pens doing the same thing so I’m still eating.

I heard all the stories from Jay-Z’s past life to Boy George to Supreme and Prince to Frank Matthews to Harry O to the Real Freeway Rick Ross to the Chambers Brothers to Y.B.I. to Big Fuckin’ Meech. How they were getting it. I love that shit, but I’m still getting it!!! I’m getting money, money, money!!! Even locked up behind all this concrete and steel, and under the very nose, eyes and ears of the United States federal government-slash- the Bureau of Prisons. I’m still getting money!!!

I just bought my girl the new SL550 Mercedes Benz and I don’t even love that bitch like that no more. I pay like one hundred different rents, car notes, bills upon bills. Sending children to Haiti to schools abroad and all that good shit. I got money in USP Atlanta (sweet), Lewisburg (love), Leavenworth (only got a short run, but made out with over fifty stacks), Lompoc (overdose city on my shit), I terrorized USP Victorville (they got rid of me), Pollack (I stayed under numerous investigations), I got my hand in other pens too- USP Big Sandy, Lee County, my cousin is up in USP McCreary, we shut down USP Florence. I’m at USP Terre Haute right now. I’m about to get a mansion built in the Hamptons right next to Russell Simmons so I can keep my winter money warm. Coleman, Florida? Both pens, one and two is going to get me the money to pay Johnny Cochran to come back alive just to lose my appeals so I can flood these fed pen compounds again and again, plus USP Beaumont just reopened, need to touch that. You might have made it rain in the club but I caused rain, hail, snow and earthquakes in this fed system. Can’t stop, won’t stop. I still love the dough.

I’m not ever going to stop getting this money, ever. The government going to have to make up a charge just for me. US Attorney General Eric Holder is going to spend billions to bury me deeper, bulldozer that dirt on my casket niggah, cause I still love that dough. I live like Donald Trump in these pens. I snap my fingers and everyone jumps to attend to my needs. Everyone is on the payroll. I don’t even know who’s who around here. I got so many flunkies, my connects love me. My hydro connect, my coke connect, my diesel connect, my X connect… they love me so much that they send me Valentine’s Day cards. All my chicks jet Lear to come see me.

My prison account is zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, beyond zero’d up! And I never go to the commissary to spend shit. Not even a red cent. My unit manager recommended that I start an outside bank account. Now he’s a bank manager at… I’ma leave that alone. I get money, money, money.

I had a few beefs, here and there. But it wasn’t nothing. In the streets I got killers and shooters with choppers to riddle shit up. In prison there are some beautiful rugged homemade knives, pretty ass weapons, deadly, but I got money, money, money. So my shit says Ginsu niggah. So I got that shit that keeps heads in line unless they want to be beheaded. I got that Japanese Samurai swordsman shit over here player, with the China white and Vietnamese dope. Pure Oriental Asian shit. Got fiends doing back flips off of this foreign high like “Waaa!”

Stamps is currency in these prisons. I got ways to liquidate them back to US currency. The US Postal Service sent the postmaster representative to me to buy a few hundred thousand worth of Forever stamps. I’m heavy in the streets like a 760 series Beamer man. Forever getting money. But most of my moves is street to street moves. I keep the economy going in the prisons. They need me as much as I need them. I still love the dough.

I’m trying to figure a way to flood them female fed spots too- Danbury, Alderson, Tallahassee, that spot in Texas- trying to flood them spots and show my bitches over there some real love. I’m still making moves and making money like its 1988. I never got high in my life. All I know is getting dough and stacking. It’s a motherfucking addiction, that’s my high, just knowing I’m getting dough. I just can’t stop. I know that the prisons Special Investigative Staff is smelling my shit crazy, but no matter how many times they lock me up pending investigations- a paper, a dose, a gram, an ounce, a bottle, a few bottles or a spoon to a few spoons are still being sold. Hand to hand or street to street, I bleed the block. I’m getting money, money, money!!

Even as I brag to your ass, I’m getting money at the same time. Let me know if you want to be down with the money team. I can get you on, get you a check and get you on that visiting floor. So you can get money!! Let me know, yo, I gotta go, gotta check up on some more money. I still love that dough!!



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