Mr. Perfect Ch. 9
The thing about trying to change your life after years of doing wrong is that you
have to work twice as hard to make things right. The deeper the hole you dig for yourself,
the harder it will be to climb out of that same hole. I seen many of my close friends die
for absolutely nothing. Taurus went to jail and hid crack inside of his dread locks so the
guards wouldn’t find it when they strip searched him. When he got to the holding cell he
tried to swallow it before they searched him for intake and died inside the same jail that
his father worked in as a correctional officer. His best friend, Kevin, was shot point blank
in the head while sitting in his car in the front yard of his house. They never found the
killer. JJ was walking around in a neighborhood clothing store with a big gold chain
around his neck. A guy walked up to him, put a gun in his face and told him to take off
the chain. “Run that chain nigga,“ He took it off and gave it to him. The guy snatched the
chain from his hand and shot him in the face. They never found the shooter even though
they had it on the store security camera. My cousin J.R. robbed a Chinese restaurant in
Gainesville. His baby mama was the getaway driver and testified on him at trial. He got
sentenced to 25 years for the robbery. His baby mama got probation. Death and prison
began to be something of the norm after a while. A far cry from the Cosby Show life that
most of us dreamed of as young kids.
Crab fest was a major festival in Williston, Fl. that came around every year in April.
Niggas started preparing for it months ahead of time. Painting cars fixing up cars with
rims and music. Buying expensive clothes and shoes all for one weekend. Me, Sam,
Barry,and KT, sat in back of Sam house that night talking about the next day. We all had
our whips fixed up and ready to go swerve on niggas. Sam had a clean ass bubble Chevy on 6's with a purple candy paint. We laughed and smoked and talk about how we were
going to party the next day. And besides, crab fest was the biggest festival event to come
to Central Florida every April. Thousands of people would show up, family and friends
gathered to have a wonderful, fun filled weekend. Some people even brought their
children to enjoy the festivities. I gave all my homeboys some dap and went home to
prepare for the next day. I decided to take my lovely lady Patricia with me so we can
spend some time together and I could take both of my cars, the Jaguar and the Range
Rover. It was my first event since I was indicted by the feds for cocaine conspiracy. I had
been laying low, walking light, and being low key for long enough. I woke up early the
next morning and rolled me a fat blunt. I called Sam and he said him and Barry would be
leaving out about 4 p.m. Later that day I drove the Jaguar to the car wash to get it washed
up. Patricia followed close behind me in the Range Rover. The car wash was jumping and
everybody was there getting washed up and ready to go to Williston for the crab fest. Me
and Patricia left the car wash and headed to Williston which was about a 15 minute drive
from Gainesville. The crowd was huge there. Music blasting from every vehicle in sight ,
girls twerking to the beat while the air was flooded with blaring music, barbecue grill and
weed smoke. It seems like every hood nigga and female in the state of Florida was there.
The Sun was shining bright and it was a beautiful Saturday. Everybody had a cup of
liquor and a blunt up to their mouth. There was well over 100 vendors selling everything
from blue crabs to soul food. Every city from Pensacola to Miami showed up to this
annual , small town festival. As we approached the main area of the festival I called
Patricia on the cell phone and told her to stay close behind me in the Range Rover. I hung
up the phone and crunk the music in the Jag back up. The rearview shook violently as the bass from the speakers almost caused the trunk to pop off the back of the car. I was vibing
to the new Yo Gotti as we slowly approached the massive crowd. It was like a sea of
niggas as far as the eye could see. Niggas who knew me gave me a soldiers salute while
the ones who didn't gave a curious stare. The females started dancing to the music coming
out of my car as it drowned out the rest of the music in the area. People were pointing and
snapping pictures of us like the paparazzi. I felt like a celebrity because I had bought the
Jag and the Range Rover out at the same time. I painted the Jag an outrageous blue like
the water in the Bahamas and put some deep dish 22's on it. I left the Range Rover black
and just slid some nice , deep dish 26's up under it. It's rare where I'm from for a nigga to
hustle up enough money to fix up one car in a slow city like Gainesville. Money was hard
to come by if you didn't have a plug. But I always bought out 2 whips at a time because
that's how I gave niggas the hush mouth. And I made sure to ride only foreign whips since
they had so much to say before and after I got indicted by the Feds. Chryslers and Crown
Vics was never my choice when it came to cars. I was the plug. So even after I got
indicted, I had money put up that I could float off of until it was over. It was funny to see
how people secretly prayed for my down fall. The only way most niggas could seem to be
doing well and coming up in the streets is to spray the next man and talk down on him by
spreading rumors and inventing lies. This was especially true with broke niggas. They
always seemed to gossip the most and know all the inside info on another nigga. Hell, my
lawyer, Mr. Lloyd Vipperman, charged me over $30k just to take my case. The rumor was
that I was working with the feds and snitchin and that's how I beat my indictment. And it
was funny that the sources of these rumors came from the same police ass niggas that
snitched on me, and testified on me at trial. So all the hate and assassination of my
character that I had been the victim of was swirling through my mind as I sipped on my
cup of liquor and slowly drove through the crowd looking like I had just hit the lottery.
But truth be told, I was a real life hood star. Living the life niggas dreamed of. My worst
day was better than them niggas best day. I had the cars, the house, the beautiful wife, and
my own business. The smallest television in my home was the 50 inch plasma on the wall
in my kitchen. Patricia had just graduated from college and received her masters degree in
social work. She was super smart and had my back in whatever situation. We were best
friends who just happened to fall in love. My kids never have seen the inside of a public
school until they got into high school. My girl was right behind me in my Range, looking
like a beautiful super model. The look on those faces were priceless as we slid through
the crowd. Traffic was bumper to bumper so we had to ride slow as people weaved in and
out of the atmosphere. This was my form of pay back to these niggas that was hating on
me. I was getting ready to park when Sam sped up to me in a frantic state. "Bro, Barry
just got shot in the back. I'm going to the hospital to see if he o.k.!" I was confused
because the festival was still going on and no one acted like there had been a shooting. I
told him to call me and let me know the deal when he got to the hospital.
I met my friend Barry Barney while doing time in prison. We knew each other on the
streets but we got tight in prison. He was the best rapper I had ever heard. And he had a
way with the ladies. He was a smooth and handsome dude. When I got to the drug
treatment camp he was already there. He had pushed up on one of the female counselors
there and they ended up getting married and having kids when he got out. I didn't think he
was hurt bad , but boy was I wrong. So I said a quick prayer for him and parked my car.
Patricia parked next to me and we walked to a food tent to grab some barbeque. We
walked around for about an hour holding hands and talking to old friends that we ran into.
We walked around for about another hour then made our way back to the cars. I opened
up all the doors and let the music play as we posed on the hood. People walked by
snapping photos of the cars and trying to talk, but they had to yell because the music was
too loud to hear them. It was around 9p.m. and I was ready to leave because I wanted to
stop by the hospital and check on Barry. We pulled out to ride the 15 minute trip back to
Gainesville, but the crowd was so thick that it took us over an hour to get out of the
traffic. I pulled over at a gas station and told bae to go ahead home and I was going to
stop by Shands Hospital and check on Barry. When I pulled into the emergency room
area, I noticed several groups of black families scattered throughout the entrance of the
emergency room and in the parking lot. I found out that 5 people had been shot and one
of the five people didn't survive. I saw Sam and KT so I walked over to see what
happened and ask if Barry was O.K. The doctor walked out while we talked and waited
for the news about our homeboy. He called for the family to come back and see Barry so
we thought everything was cool. I asked Sam what happened because I still didn't know
the story of how or why he got shot in the first place. He said, "Bro, all I know Is that we
were walking through the crowd and some niggas started fighting. We stood and watched
from a distance and all of a sudden shots rang out. We all turned to run and he fell to the
ground and said he couldn't breathe. Females were jumping to cover their babies and
niggas were knocking over baby strollers trying to get away from the gun shots. The
crowd scattered and the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. A stray bullet had hit
him in the back. I jumped in my whip and that's when I seen you turning in". After about 15 minutes later his brother and his father came back out to the waiting area. The tears
rolling down their eyes said it all. "He gone!!!" , his little brother said. We looked at him
like we didn't understand. We all sat there in silence for a full 5 seconds. Tears started
rolling down my eyes while Sam and KT covered their face in utter shock and disbelief.
He was dead. Another life of a young black man cut short by a stray bullet. Damn!!! My
nigga dead!!!! No, Hell No!!! I thought about his kids. Damn... He didn't have anything to
do with the fight or the shooting that took place. He was just in the wrong place at the
wrong time. I thought about how he came to live with me a few years ago in an apartment
that I used to trap out of. He was going through it with his kids mother so I just gave him
a key and told him he could stay there as long as he needed to. He used be like, "nigga
that was my apartment because you was never there". Life is so fragile. And the funny
thing about it is that when he got shot he fell in front of my uncle Sterling who is a
fireman from my hometown of Crystal River. My uncle seen him fall and immediately
jumped into action and began to do CPR. They had never met before, but my uncle was
trying to save the life of my best friend before the paramedics came on the scene. He was
off duty at the time but he just did what came naturally. I still can't believe it... Just like
that. One day you're here, laughing, talking, and loving. Then Then the next day you're
gone...
R.I.P. BARRY BARNEY JR. I love you my nigga.....
The thing about trying to change your life after years of doing wrong is that you
have to work twice as hard to make things right. The deeper the hole you dig for yourself,
the harder it will be to climb out of that same hole. I seen many of my close friends die
for absolutely nothing. Taurus went to jail and hid crack inside of his dread locks so the
guards wouldn’t find it when they strip searched him. When he got to the holding cell he
tried to swallow it before they searched him for intake and died inside the same jail that
his father worked in as a correctional officer. His best friend, Kevin, was shot point blank
in the head while sitting in his car in the front yard of his house. They never found the
killer. JJ was walking around in a neighborhood clothing store with a big gold chain
around his neck. A guy walked up to him, put a gun in his face and told him to take off
the chain. “Run that chain nigga,“ He took it off and gave it to him. The guy snatched the
chain from his hand and shot him in the face. They never found the shooter even though
they had it on the store security camera. My cousin J.R. robbed a Chinese restaurant in
Gainesville. His baby mama was the getaway driver and testified on him at trial. He got
sentenced to 25 years for the robbery. His baby mama got probation. Death and prison
began to be something of the norm after a while. A far cry from the Cosby Show life that
most of us dreamed of as young kids.
Crab fest was a major festival in Williston, Fl. that came around every year in April.
Niggas started preparing for it months ahead of time. Painting cars fixing up cars with
rims and music. Buying expensive clothes and shoes all for one weekend. Me, Sam,
Barry,and KT, sat in back of Sam house that night talking about the next day. We all had
our whips fixed up and ready to go swerve on niggas. Sam had a clean ass bubble Chevy on 6's with a purple candy paint. We laughed and smoked and talk about how we were
going to party the next day. And besides, crab fest was the biggest festival event to come
to Central Florida every April. Thousands of people would show up, family and friends
gathered to have a wonderful, fun filled weekend. Some people even brought their
children to enjoy the festivities. I gave all my homeboys some dap and went home to
prepare for the next day. I decided to take my lovely lady Patricia with me so we can
spend some time together and I could take both of my cars, the Jaguar and the Range
Rover. It was my first event since I was indicted by the feds for cocaine conspiracy. I had
been laying low, walking light, and being low key for long enough. I woke up early the
next morning and rolled me a fat blunt. I called Sam and he said him and Barry would be
leaving out about 4 p.m. Later that day I drove the Jaguar to the car wash to get it washed
up. Patricia followed close behind me in the Range Rover. The car wash was jumping and
everybody was there getting washed up and ready to go to Williston for the crab fest. Me
and Patricia left the car wash and headed to Williston which was about a 15 minute drive
from Gainesville. The crowd was huge there. Music blasting from every vehicle in sight ,
girls twerking to the beat while the air was flooded with blaring music, barbecue grill and
weed smoke. It seems like every hood nigga and female in the state of Florida was there.
The Sun was shining bright and it was a beautiful Saturday. Everybody had a cup of
liquor and a blunt up to their mouth. There was well over 100 vendors selling everything
from blue crabs to soul food. Every city from Pensacola to Miami showed up to this
annual , small town festival. As we approached the main area of the festival I called
Patricia on the cell phone and told her to stay close behind me in the Range Rover. I hung
up the phone and crunk the music in the Jag back up. The rearview shook violently as the bass from the speakers almost caused the trunk to pop off the back of the car. I was vibing
to the new Yo Gotti as we slowly approached the massive crowd. It was like a sea of
niggas as far as the eye could see. Niggas who knew me gave me a soldiers salute while
the ones who didn't gave a curious stare. The females started dancing to the music coming
out of my car as it drowned out the rest of the music in the area. People were pointing and
snapping pictures of us like the paparazzi. I felt like a celebrity because I had bought the
Jag and the Range Rover out at the same time. I painted the Jag an outrageous blue like
the water in the Bahamas and put some deep dish 22's on it. I left the Range Rover black
and just slid some nice , deep dish 26's up under it. It's rare where I'm from for a nigga to
hustle up enough money to fix up one car in a slow city like Gainesville. Money was hard
to come by if you didn't have a plug. But I always bought out 2 whips at a time because
that's how I gave niggas the hush mouth. And I made sure to ride only foreign whips since
they had so much to say before and after I got indicted by the Feds. Chryslers and Crown
Vics was never my choice when it came to cars. I was the plug. So even after I got
indicted, I had money put up that I could float off of until it was over. It was funny to see
how people secretly prayed for my down fall. The only way most niggas could seem to be
doing well and coming up in the streets is to spray the next man and talk down on him by
spreading rumors and inventing lies. This was especially true with broke niggas. They
always seemed to gossip the most and know all the inside info on another nigga. Hell, my
lawyer, Mr. Lloyd Vipperman, charged me over $30k just to take my case. The rumor was
that I was working with the feds and snitchin and that's how I beat my indictment. And it
was funny that the sources of these rumors came from the same police ass niggas that
snitched on me, and testified on me at trial. So all the hate and assassination of my
character that I had been the victim of was swirling through my mind as I sipped on my
cup of liquor and slowly drove through the crowd looking like I had just hit the lottery.
But truth be told, I was a real life hood star. Living the life niggas dreamed of. My worst
day was better than them niggas best day. I had the cars, the house, the beautiful wife, and
my own business. The smallest television in my home was the 50 inch plasma on the wall
in my kitchen. Patricia had just graduated from college and received her masters degree in
social work. She was super smart and had my back in whatever situation. We were best
friends who just happened to fall in love. My kids never have seen the inside of a public
school until they got into high school. My girl was right behind me in my Range, looking
like a beautiful super model. The look on those faces were priceless as we slid through
the crowd. Traffic was bumper to bumper so we had to ride slow as people weaved in and
out of the atmosphere. This was my form of pay back to these niggas that was hating on
me. I was getting ready to park when Sam sped up to me in a frantic state. "Bro, Barry
just got shot in the back. I'm going to the hospital to see if he o.k.!" I was confused
because the festival was still going on and no one acted like there had been a shooting. I
told him to call me and let me know the deal when he got to the hospital.
I met my friend Barry Barney while doing time in prison. We knew each other on the
streets but we got tight in prison. He was the best rapper I had ever heard. And he had a
way with the ladies. He was a smooth and handsome dude. When I got to the drug
treatment camp he was already there. He had pushed up on one of the female counselors
there and they ended up getting married and having kids when he got out. I didn't think he
was hurt bad , but boy was I wrong. So I said a quick prayer for him and parked my car.
Patricia parked next to me and we walked to a food tent to grab some barbeque. We
walked around for about an hour holding hands and talking to old friends that we ran into.
We walked around for about another hour then made our way back to the cars. I opened
up all the doors and let the music play as we posed on the hood. People walked by
snapping photos of the cars and trying to talk, but they had to yell because the music was
too loud to hear them. It was around 9p.m. and I was ready to leave because I wanted to
stop by the hospital and check on Barry. We pulled out to ride the 15 minute trip back to
Gainesville, but the crowd was so thick that it took us over an hour to get out of the
traffic. I pulled over at a gas station and told bae to go ahead home and I was going to
stop by Shands Hospital and check on Barry. When I pulled into the emergency room
area, I noticed several groups of black families scattered throughout the entrance of the
emergency room and in the parking lot. I found out that 5 people had been shot and one
of the five people didn't survive. I saw Sam and KT so I walked over to see what
happened and ask if Barry was O.K. The doctor walked out while we talked and waited
for the news about our homeboy. He called for the family to come back and see Barry so
we thought everything was cool. I asked Sam what happened because I still didn't know
the story of how or why he got shot in the first place. He said, "Bro, all I know Is that we
were walking through the crowd and some niggas started fighting. We stood and watched
from a distance and all of a sudden shots rang out. We all turned to run and he fell to the
ground and said he couldn't breathe. Females were jumping to cover their babies and
niggas were knocking over baby strollers trying to get away from the gun shots. The
crowd scattered and the ambulance came to take him to the hospital. A stray bullet had hit
him in the back. I jumped in my whip and that's when I seen you turning in". After about 15 minutes later his brother and his father came back out to the waiting area. The tears
rolling down their eyes said it all. "He gone!!!" , his little brother said. We looked at him
like we didn't understand. We all sat there in silence for a full 5 seconds. Tears started
rolling down my eyes while Sam and KT covered their face in utter shock and disbelief.
He was dead. Another life of a young black man cut short by a stray bullet. Damn!!! My
nigga dead!!!! No, Hell No!!! I thought about his kids. Damn... He didn't have anything to
do with the fight or the shooting that took place. He was just in the wrong place at the
wrong time. I thought about how he came to live with me a few years ago in an apartment
that I used to trap out of. He was going through it with his kids mother so I just gave him
a key and told him he could stay there as long as he needed to. He used be like, "nigga
that was my apartment because you was never there". Life is so fragile. And the funny
thing about it is that when he got shot he fell in front of my uncle Sterling who is a
fireman from my hometown of Crystal River. My uncle seen him fall and immediately
jumped into action and began to do CPR. They had never met before, but my uncle was
trying to save the life of my best friend before the paramedics came on the scene. He was
off duty at the time but he just did what came naturally. I still can't believe it... Just like
that. One day you're here, laughing, talking, and loving. Then Then the next day you're
gone...
R.I.P. BARRY BARNEY JR. I love you my nigga.....
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