As told by Federal Ranga again...
Shit is crazy... I'm in Seattle, see my man $yk, I get half ass jacked by Kurupt and next thing I know I'm on a James Bond type mission to NY? Damn... I need to stay home more, yo. Chuntell would've slapped the shit outta Kurupt for that joke. So I'm 65k richer now holding an envelope and (just to build excitement) haven't opened it yet. I'm bumping Any Man by Eminem off the Soundbombing II album on repeat. As I came up on the airport, my phone rang with a private number...
"I know I'on owe nobody no money..." I answer my phone. "Yo, who this?"
"Is this Federal Ranga?"
"Damn skippy, nigga. Who this?"
"Going to New York?"
"Yeah.... aiyyo, how the fuck you-"
*Click/Dial tone*
"Weird ass nigga..."
Fuck that shit. We finally get to the airport and I cop a ticket to NYC. Something seems hella fuckin fishy as I walk to have a seat to wait for the plane... too many people are looking at me. Everybody is clearing out of the way no matter where I go. It's as though I got herpes or something. I know my reputation preceeds me, but DAMN, it's not that serious, ya'll. As I walk to my terminal, I notice one of the flight staff is wearing a LA fitted... something ain't right here ya'll. Little light skinned mufucka. Skinny. Spotting me, he immediately leaps from behind the counter in front of me with a mic as all the lights in the airport blackout. WTF?! A light shines from the ceiling on him and me as a crowd, out of nowhere has formed, cheering wildly. Then an announcer comes on the P.A.
NIGGAZ AND BITCHES, ITS A BATTLE FOR THE MUTHAFUCKIN AGES!!! AWWWWW, YEAAAAH!!! THE TAKEOFF BATTLE!!! A PLANE RIDE IS ON THE MUTHAFUCKIN LINE!!! IF FED WINS HE GETS ON HIS PLANE TO NYC!!! *Wild Applause* IF HE LOSES, HE TAKES GREYHOUND! LET'S GET IT. THREE ROUNDS. 16 BARS EACH!!! LET'S GO!!! HIS FIRST OPPONENT: NIPSEY HUSSLE!!!
Are you fucking serious?! My oppenent lifts his head up to reveal himself... Hell yeah, it's Mr. Hussle himself. Who the fuck hired this nigga in an airport.
"I'm about to serve you, biatch" he declares as a yellow bone woman comes and takes off his clothes into his street gear. "Fuck that plane... when I'm done with you, it's bus time, nigga."
"FINALLY!!! I get to have some fuckin fun," I say smiling back and putting $yk's envolope in my back pocket. If you haven't heard... I love to spit and battling is how I got started. "Let's get it!"
AIGHT YA'LL TOUCH MICS!!!
"Nigga, I ain't got one!" I scream to whoever the fuck is announcing. Out of nowhere a mic falls from the air and hits me in the dome. Damn. That's convenient. "Never mind, dickhead!" I bumps mics with Hussle as he points to God.... yeah, nigga. You gonna need that. Out walks another hot lil mama with a 50 Cent coin. Not a regular half dollar. A 50 Cent coin. I'll explain how he got involved with the Federal Reserve later.
"Call it in the air, Hussle, baby..." she says.
"Heads, bitch. Always," he orders. As she flips the coins, a way too prepared Hussle just knocks this bitch to the floor. "Get the fuck out the way, hoe!" Coin lands - on her ass. Heads. "I'ma go first... fuck he gonna say after me?" he boasts. More wild applause. Is the crowd really feeding into this shit? Fuck it. I'm going in! Next thing I know the Gin & Juice instrumental starts playing. The mood couldn't be more perfect. I'm about to torch a mufucka, but he wants to bomb first? Fuck it. Lets go. Stay tuned...
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Adventures: Chuntell The Cautious
Federal Ranga is on his way to New York City on a mission from $ykotic. Meanwhile, back in Miami, Chuntell is in the middle of another busy morning...
CLICK *Sighs*
"He forever on his way somewhere... I wish he would sit his ass down somewhere sometimes," grunted Chuntell walking into her offices. She couldn't even make it to her desk without being called for by one of her jovial employees. She always believed they were just sucking up to her.
"Chuntell, a call on line one," a quiet woman said to her as she walked by.
"Tell em to reschedule."
"Chuntell, Chuntell!" another worker called out "Ms. Chapman, wants to know if she can move her party back a week. She's went into labor today."
"$5k extra. You let her know that. I know I didn't tell her to get knocked up," Chuntell replied nearing her office door. When she finally made it to her door, she turned around and looked at the office behind her to see her busy little staff. "I love this shit." With that she opened the door, entered her office to sit down and began to drink her already prepared hot chocolate on her desk.
"Girl, how I'm tryna plan a bash and you late?," a woman already sitting in her office said with a smile.
"Cuz I'm the boss and you better be a-," Chuntell stopped.
"Oh," said the now familiar woman, "that's how you gonna do me?"
"Oh my Gaaaaaaaaaahd, Trinaaaaaa, girrrrrrl, where you been?" C replied getting back up to exchange hugs with her friend. She and Trina had been friends for year ever since Fed introduced the two at a birthday party she organized. "It's been so long!"
"Child, I know," Trina laughed back while sitting down. "I see yo little business is still moving."
"I know... its been a crazy year, but I love it."
"So where yo hubby at?"
"Girl, stop... I do not see no ring on this finger..."
"And? Ya'll been talking to each other for so long. Don't you think it's about time?"
"I ain't studdin you, girl. You almost married Weezy, you can't tell me shit."
"Yeah, but I was crazy for that... anyways... ahem... when ya'll doing that though?"
"I'on know," Chuntell sighed, looking at her empty ring finger "If he can act like he can stay still for 5 minutes, I might can lock his ass down... tha's my baby though."
"Hmph," Trina joked. "Yeah, I hope he can make my party. You know why I'm here. I got the Forever Diamond Divas party I wanna throw in a month."
"Oh, yeah... what you got in mind?"
"Well.... I want white... white everywhere... like on some Puffy shit. You know Da Baddest gotta set it off."
"Ok... where you thinking about doing it?"
"I was thinking the beach."
"South Beach," Chuntell noted to herself, going into her desktop to get started. "Ok, South Beach."
"Oh, naw, girl... North Beach. Like 71st, Collins Ave and stuff... everybody goes to SoBe... I want something different."
"Girl, ain't no clubs over there! Why there?"
"I'm steppin my game up," the Diamond Princess replied.
"Ok... anything else?"
"Surprise me... just remember white all over... I know you gonna blow it out, baby. But right now I gotta go though. You know I stay busy."
"Aight, you haven't given me much to work with, but I'll do something for you."
"Yeah, baby! I trust you," Trina replied while standing up. In the middle of turning around to exit Chuntell's office her larger than average ass knocked over a picture of Anton in a glass frame. It fell fast to the floor face down and shattered into many pieces. One of the smallest shards flew past Chuntell's face, cutting it slightly. Unknowingly Chuntell started to bleed. A small line of blood ran her left cheek as she grabbed a tissue off of her desk to wipe it away. "Oh, my God... I'm so sorry! You want me to help you with that? I'ma call 911-"
"Trina, stop! It's not that serious... tiny ass little cut. I'ma big girl. Go... I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, go on now, before I throw this hot chocolate on yo ass," she reassured laughing.
"Aight," Trina laughed back. "Keep ya girl posted."
"Yup."
Having finally stopped the small bleeding, Chuntell bent down to pick up the photo. Something startled her. The glass had actually crossed an X over Fed's face. She took it as a sign while she walked to close the door to her office. She walked back to her chair and sat down. Turning around in the chair, she peeked through the blinds into the sky.
"Baby... if you can hear me... I love you. Please come back to me."
CLICK *Sighs*
"He forever on his way somewhere... I wish he would sit his ass down somewhere sometimes," grunted Chuntell walking into her offices. She couldn't even make it to her desk without being called for by one of her jovial employees. She always believed they were just sucking up to her.
"Chuntell, a call on line one," a quiet woman said to her as she walked by.
"Tell em to reschedule."
"Chuntell, Chuntell!" another worker called out "Ms. Chapman, wants to know if she can move her party back a week. She's went into labor today."
"$5k extra. You let her know that. I know I didn't tell her to get knocked up," Chuntell replied nearing her office door. When she finally made it to her door, she turned around and looked at the office behind her to see her busy little staff. "I love this shit." With that she opened the door, entered her office to sit down and began to drink her already prepared hot chocolate on her desk.
"Girl, how I'm tryna plan a bash and you late?," a woman already sitting in her office said with a smile.
"Cuz I'm the boss and you better be a-," Chuntell stopped.
"Oh," said the now familiar woman, "that's how you gonna do me?"
"Oh my Gaaaaaaaaaahd, Trinaaaaaa, girrrrrrl, where you been?" C replied getting back up to exchange hugs with her friend. She and Trina had been friends for year ever since Fed introduced the two at a birthday party she organized. "It's been so long!"
"Child, I know," Trina laughed back while sitting down. "I see yo little business is still moving."
"I know... its been a crazy year, but I love it."
"So where yo hubby at?"
"Girl, stop... I do not see no ring on this finger..."
"And? Ya'll been talking to each other for so long. Don't you think it's about time?"
"I ain't studdin you, girl. You almost married Weezy, you can't tell me shit."
"Yeah, but I was crazy for that... anyways... ahem... when ya'll doing that though?"
"I'on know," Chuntell sighed, looking at her empty ring finger "If he can act like he can stay still for 5 minutes, I might can lock his ass down... tha's my baby though."
"Hmph," Trina joked. "Yeah, I hope he can make my party. You know why I'm here. I got the Forever Diamond Divas party I wanna throw in a month."
"Oh, yeah... what you got in mind?"
"Well.... I want white... white everywhere... like on some Puffy shit. You know Da Baddest gotta set it off."
"Ok... where you thinking about doing it?"
"I was thinking the beach."
"South Beach," Chuntell noted to herself, going into her desktop to get started. "Ok, South Beach."
"Oh, naw, girl... North Beach. Like 71st, Collins Ave and stuff... everybody goes to SoBe... I want something different."
"Girl, ain't no clubs over there! Why there?"
"I'm steppin my game up," the Diamond Princess replied.
"Ok... anything else?"
"Surprise me... just remember white all over... I know you gonna blow it out, baby. But right now I gotta go though. You know I stay busy."
"Aight, you haven't given me much to work with, but I'll do something for you."
"Yeah, baby! I trust you," Trina replied while standing up. In the middle of turning around to exit Chuntell's office her larger than average ass knocked over a picture of Anton in a glass frame. It fell fast to the floor face down and shattered into many pieces. One of the smallest shards flew past Chuntell's face, cutting it slightly. Unknowingly Chuntell started to bleed. A small line of blood ran her left cheek as she grabbed a tissue off of her desk to wipe it away. "Oh, my God... I'm so sorry! You want me to help you with that? I'ma call 911-"
"Trina, stop! It's not that serious... tiny ass little cut. I'ma big girl. Go... I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, go on now, before I throw this hot chocolate on yo ass," she reassured laughing.
"Aight," Trina laughed back. "Keep ya girl posted."
"Yup."
Having finally stopped the small bleeding, Chuntell bent down to pick up the photo. Something startled her. The glass had actually crossed an X over Fed's face. She took it as a sign while she walked to close the door to her office. She walked back to her chair and sat down. Turning around in the chair, she peeked through the blinds into the sky.
"Baby... if you can hear me... I love you. Please come back to me."
Monday, December 7, 2009
Adventures: A $ykotic Meeting
A $ykotic Meeting
(As told by Fed)
Now normally, I don't do surprise visits. That shit is super annoying to me. A nigga never knows what the fuck to expect from people, even the ones he knows. So why bother? Because it makes life fun. While I may hate surprises, I hate being bored even more. Fuckin A-Type personality.
Being connected to $yk has a lot of pull. Ever since Snoop Dogg was elected president of the Fresh Coast and $yk's company built his new offices from the ground up, they've been tighter than Oprah in speedos. I can't lie though, it was a really tight debate against Ice Cube, but Dr. Dre was his running mate... how can you lose?
I was out in Seattle on a Fresh Coast swing to visit my new friend $yk. My mans said he had something important he needed me to see. I'm not the one to argue with my Commission!!! brothers so I booked the first flight I could out and was there on an sunny Monday afternoon. After arriving, I was picked up by a limo ($yk don't skimp) and I was driven to the one and only Space Needle. As I got out the limo and tried to tip the driver, who declined, I looked up and noticed something strange. I'm no genius, but I know the Needle is a huge attraction, yet there was no line here at all. I walked and immediate hit the elevator up to the top floor. *Ding* I'm here and I'm greeted at the top floor by a man in an all black tux. He's a serious looking mufucka; clearly he has a job to do.
"This way, Mr. Fed."
"No problem... Where the fuck is $yk, nigga?"
"All will be explained," he responds, even more serious. "I can't say what he has in store."
"Whatever you say."
I'm led to a door and Mr. Serious backs away. He nods to let me know this is the door to walk through. I chunk the duece and he nods as I enter the room and see a man looking out the window down at the city below. Dressed in an all white tux with white snakeskin Stacy's on holding a glass of the most expensive wine money can buy on the Fresh Coast.
"Ayo, $yk what it-"
CHA-CLICK.
"Don't move, nigga." The barrel is small. Clearly filled with hollow points... I'm about to get my fuckin brains blowed out. "Hands up, Potna..." I oblige and put my hands up behind my head as mystery shooter pats me down.
"Aye man, what the fuck is going on, muf-"
"If I were you, I'd shut the fuck up."
"Man, if you ain't have that gun, I'd fuck-"
"Too bad, pussy. I do. Hold fuckin still."
"Enough, Matchstick. Let him go... he's a friend of mine." Hearing the gun unclick and lower from my head, I shove off my aggressor and turn to face him. Is he fuckin serious? Kurupt. You've gotta be shitting me... I almost got shot by Kurupt? Not Daz, but Kurupt?
"Don't look like no friend to me," Kurupt says with an attitude.
"That's Fed..."
"Fed? The Fed? On Yo Ass!!! Fed?" he says, pulling on my shirt to check my gear. "Nigga, you look bigger on TV..." He walks off to have a seat and play Xbox 1080.
"Matchstick-"
"Nigga, stop calling me that... I'm just thin, I ain't that skinny."
"Aight, K. Me and Fed need to talk. I'll holla. You ain't have to do that gun shit, though..."
"I know. I just wanted to see if he'd bitch up. He just like you said, mayne. You coming to the party tonight, right?"
"You know it. Chuuuch."
"Chuuuch." Just like that Kurupt is gone.
I'm still trippin on being stuck at gunpoint by somebody from Tha Dogg Pound.
"Man, what the fuck was that about?" I say looking at $yk.
"I'on know... I told him you was coming and he said he'd play a joke... didn't think he'd pull a gun on you, but you know I can't take no chances. Lotta clones running around out there. Wine?"
"You know I'm dry, man. No liquor. What's this you got me out here for?"
"Straight down to business, I likes that. Never could get a simple convo outta you."
"Fa sho. Long as y'know. Naw, I'm kidding. How you been? What it's been, like a 4-5 months?"
"Seven. Good to see you, my dude." Fist bumps ya boy.
"Same," I reply walking over to the skyview to look down at Seattle with him. My look turns from a grin to a serious look. "So what happened?"
"Remember the new recreation center in Brooklyn, my company's starting on right?"
"The one Jean Grae volunteered on, right?"
"Yeah. I know you the only one crazy enough to do this shit. I'd come with you, but this company ain't making no moves without me, so I gotta sit it out, ya dig?"
"Aye... Commission!!! man... it's no problem. Anything for the team."
"You gonna need a few dollars so I stuck a couple Tony* in there for safe measure. Take this," he instructs handing me an envelope. "It'll tell you what you gotta do once you get there. Don't open it until then. Travel mercy, my dude."
"Aight... anything else you need to tell me before I go?"
"Yeah," he replies throwing me a .45. "Say hi to C75B for me... if you don't see him, he will see you."
"I dig it."
I can only imagine the type of shit I'm about to get into, but for the team, I'd die. So I bounce and Mr. Serious lead me back to the elevator, like a nigga couldn't remember where the fuck I just was. Shit, I was only in the needle for about a good 10 minutes. What the fuck? While waiting in the elevator I receive a text.
Chuntell: Where you at, baby?
FR: Tha Needle
Chuntell: $yk?
FR: You know me well, huh...
Chuntell: Problem? You need me, bae?
FR: Naw. I'm good, but y'know I'll get you if I do.
Chuntell: Love you.
FR: Love you, too. G2G.
Next text comes in.
BANK STATEMENT ALERT:
Old CA Balance: $15,370.90
New CA Balance: $65,370.90.
2PM EST
Damn... must be a real serious thing. I'm looking at this envelope... The fuck am I in for? Like I said, I hate surprises. I exit the Needle and the limo is waiting for me. I get in the opened door. The driver gets back into the front seat and we pull off. Intercomming me...
"Where to, Mr. Ranga?"
"Airport. Next stop, BK."
(As told by Fed)
Now normally, I don't do surprise visits. That shit is super annoying to me. A nigga never knows what the fuck to expect from people, even the ones he knows. So why bother? Because it makes life fun. While I may hate surprises, I hate being bored even more. Fuckin A-Type personality.
Being connected to $yk has a lot of pull. Ever since Snoop Dogg was elected president of the Fresh Coast and $yk's company built his new offices from the ground up, they've been tighter than Oprah in speedos. I can't lie though, it was a really tight debate against Ice Cube, but Dr. Dre was his running mate... how can you lose?
I was out in Seattle on a Fresh Coast swing to visit my new friend $yk. My mans said he had something important he needed me to see. I'm not the one to argue with my Commission!!! brothers so I booked the first flight I could out and was there on an sunny Monday afternoon. After arriving, I was picked up by a limo ($yk don't skimp) and I was driven to the one and only Space Needle. As I got out the limo and tried to tip the driver, who declined, I looked up and noticed something strange. I'm no genius, but I know the Needle is a huge attraction, yet there was no line here at all. I walked and immediate hit the elevator up to the top floor. *Ding* I'm here and I'm greeted at the top floor by a man in an all black tux. He's a serious looking mufucka; clearly he has a job to do.
"This way, Mr. Fed."
"No problem... Where the fuck is $yk, nigga?"
"All will be explained," he responds, even more serious. "I can't say what he has in store."
"Whatever you say."
I'm led to a door and Mr. Serious backs away. He nods to let me know this is the door to walk through. I chunk the duece and he nods as I enter the room and see a man looking out the window down at the city below. Dressed in an all white tux with white snakeskin Stacy's on holding a glass of the most expensive wine money can buy on the Fresh Coast.
"Ayo, $yk what it-"
CHA-CLICK.
"Don't move, nigga." The barrel is small. Clearly filled with hollow points... I'm about to get my fuckin brains blowed out. "Hands up, Potna..." I oblige and put my hands up behind my head as mystery shooter pats me down.
"Aye man, what the fuck is going on, muf-"
"If I were you, I'd shut the fuck up."
"Man, if you ain't have that gun, I'd fuck-"
"Too bad, pussy. I do. Hold fuckin still."
"Enough, Matchstick. Let him go... he's a friend of mine." Hearing the gun unclick and lower from my head, I shove off my aggressor and turn to face him. Is he fuckin serious? Kurupt. You've gotta be shitting me... I almost got shot by Kurupt? Not Daz, but Kurupt?
"Don't look like no friend to me," Kurupt says with an attitude.
"That's Fed..."
"Fed? The Fed? On Yo Ass!!! Fed?" he says, pulling on my shirt to check my gear. "Nigga, you look bigger on TV..." He walks off to have a seat and play Xbox 1080.
"Matchstick-"
"Nigga, stop calling me that... I'm just thin, I ain't that skinny."
"Aight, K. Me and Fed need to talk. I'll holla. You ain't have to do that gun shit, though..."
"I know. I just wanted to see if he'd bitch up. He just like you said, mayne. You coming to the party tonight, right?"
"You know it. Chuuuch."
"Chuuuch." Just like that Kurupt is gone.
I'm still trippin on being stuck at gunpoint by somebody from Tha Dogg Pound.
"Man, what the fuck was that about?" I say looking at $yk.
"I'on know... I told him you was coming and he said he'd play a joke... didn't think he'd pull a gun on you, but you know I can't take no chances. Lotta clones running around out there. Wine?"
"You know I'm dry, man. No liquor. What's this you got me out here for?"
"Straight down to business, I likes that. Never could get a simple convo outta you."
"Fa sho. Long as y'know. Naw, I'm kidding. How you been? What it's been, like a 4-5 months?"
"Seven. Good to see you, my dude." Fist bumps ya boy.
"Same," I reply walking over to the skyview to look down at Seattle with him. My look turns from a grin to a serious look. "So what happened?"
"Remember the new recreation center in Brooklyn, my company's starting on right?"
"The one Jean Grae volunteered on, right?"
"Yeah. I know you the only one crazy enough to do this shit. I'd come with you, but this company ain't making no moves without me, so I gotta sit it out, ya dig?"
"Aye... Commission!!! man... it's no problem. Anything for the team."
"You gonna need a few dollars so I stuck a couple Tony* in there for safe measure. Take this," he instructs handing me an envelope. "It'll tell you what you gotta do once you get there. Don't open it until then. Travel mercy, my dude."
"Aight... anything else you need to tell me before I go?"
"Yeah," he replies throwing me a .45. "Say hi to C75B for me... if you don't see him, he will see you."
"I dig it."
I can only imagine the type of shit I'm about to get into, but for the team, I'd die. So I bounce and Mr. Serious lead me back to the elevator, like a nigga couldn't remember where the fuck I just was. Shit, I was only in the needle for about a good 10 minutes. What the fuck? While waiting in the elevator I receive a text.
Chuntell: Where you at, baby?
FR: Tha Needle
Chuntell: $yk?
FR: You know me well, huh...
Chuntell: Problem? You need me, bae?
FR: Naw. I'm good, but y'know I'll get you if I do.
Chuntell: Love you.
FR: Love you, too. G2G.
Next text comes in.
BANK STATEMENT ALERT:
Old CA Balance: $15,370.90
New CA Balance: $65,370.90.
2PM EST
Damn... must be a real serious thing. I'm looking at this envelope... The fuck am I in for? Like I said, I hate surprises. I exit the Needle and the limo is waiting for me. I get in the opened door. The driver gets back into the front seat and we pull off. Intercomming me...
"Where to, Mr. Ranga?"
"Airport. Next stop, BK."
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Adventures of Federal Ranga: Prelude
The Prelude & Main Character Introduction
Background:
Welcome to the Newnited States of Rap. After a uprising of superstars and unknowns of music alike; sounds, melodies and lyrics took over the world in only a short matter of time. After a timely meeting between all genres of music, the continents of the earth were given control of by said genres. Rap/Hip-Hop, chose not to have a continent, merely a country. USA... now divided into it's own genres. Tha South, The "Fresh" Coast, The East, The Midwest and newly formed The Basket.
In a not so distant future dominated by hip hop one man is about to go on a wild ride...
Federal Ranga
Age: 25
Occupation: Regional Distric Supervisor of Shell of South Florida
2nd Occupation: Local Battle Rapper and Loose Cannon of Miami
Story: Fed is your typical successful guy living in the finer parts of Miami. Money for days, women for months and popularity to spare. He's the guy people just like, merely because they don't know him very well...
Chuntell
Age: 23
Occupation: Party Planner
Story: Fed's main squeeze and backbone. Despite finding Fed with a new woman or femcee every time she blinks. She knows that he will always come back to/fall on her for her undying love and support. Behind every strong man is a strong woman. Chuntell as she politely puts it is "the V-12 to his drivetrain"
Ronald 'Ron' Mexico
Age: 45
Occupation: Renegade Mayor of Ron Mexico City
Story: The former Black Panther turned lawyer turned politician. Got stupid rich off the "untold" investing in Apple's iPod "before it blew up" and founded his very own city which now boasts a ridiculous population of more than 3 million people (ironically, the population is 0% hispanic). His brazen mindstate make him the most feared man in the world and his misunderstood humor & wit seperate him "from the boys" as he puts it. Known for his catch phrase "Nigga please" which he's forever based his election campaigns off of despite the fact he's run unopposed since claiming power.
Tony Grand$
Age: 36
Occupation: Owner of Grand$ & Family Company/Philosipher
Story: One of the wisest men in Ron Mexico City, he is the founder and owner of the the Grand$ & Family Company with includes 4 barbershops, 2 music stores, a record company and studio as well as a 50% stake in the Ron Mexico City Times newspaper where he is also Editor in Chief. Can sometimes be spotted at local battles judging.
Her
Age: Varies from broad to broad
Occupation: Varies from broad to broad
Story: Previously mention Fed is quite the ladies man and can be found with or using a chick almost all the time. These women range from normal women to celebrities and will be easy to recognize based off of what they say to Fed.
Don "$ykotic" McCaine
Age: 37
Occupation: Billionaire Contruction Owner
Story: After years of being his father's understudy as a teen, he finally implemented new ideas in the family business and after completing a few huge construction jobs was given complete control of the company by 26. He is also one of the leading charity forces on the West Coast, giving back to the community and giving yearly grants to "up and coming artists".
Troy "New Yawka" Arnando
Age: 26
Occupation: Battle Rapper/Basketball Coach
Story: Self proclaimed "best battle rapper on the East Coast" he reigned supreme as NYC's underground champion until a live ppv loss at the hands of Skinny Hansel in 2008 for $2,000,000. Embarrassed, he went into recluse and later reappeared as a playground streetball coach in 2009. The battler in him wouldn't die and he vowed revenge. He now seeks out any and every opponent he can find or discover and is merciless in trying to regain the title back from "that cheating Dallas asshole".
A.Dd+
Ages: Unknown
Occupation: Rappers/ Enterpreneurs
Story: Local Dallas duo turned south rap stars, the team of Skinny Hansel & Paris Pershun are the Texas favorites. After dropping the Power of Tongue mixtape, S. Hansel went out to New York and eventually smash on New Yawka for the crown of NYC's Underground Champion despite not being from or living in NYC. Newly paid with $2 Mill to their names, they started their own record company and partnered with Bun B to start their own label. Nobody in the south has grinded harder since.
There plenty more characters that we will meet. Some unfamiliar, some you know and love...
And so our story begins...
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