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."