There is no mystery God…? Part 1

Posted: October 31, 2010 in Uncategorized

Shamiek, Kevo, and Twan had been best friends since the 7th grade. “Meek” as his two aces called him, was born in Brooklyn and moved to the south side of Chicago when he was 11. Kevo was born and raised in the Chi, as was Twan. They both came up in Stateway Gardens Projects and were residing there when Meek moved there to live with his grandmother after his mom passed. The three of them clicked immediately and were thick as thieves, although individually they were very unique brothas. Kev was the prototypical south side street nigga. He got blessed into the Gangsta Disciples when he was 9, and went hard for the mob until he got popped off on a gun charge and did a year, during which he was supposed to be a freshman at somebody’s college. In spite of his thorough thug pedigree, he was extremely intelligent and an avid reader. His reading habit only got stronger when he was in the joint and he would often tell his partners, “my favorite food is books nigga!”

Twan was the charismatic one of the trio. He knew everybody in the hood and everybody knew him. T-Smoove, as he loved to call himself, was so charming and fly that he could talk his way into, or out of anything. Even though he grew up in the projects he stayed fresh to def because he could always weasel his mom into buyin’ him the hottest sneaks and threads out at the time and whatever she couldn’t afford his stable of girls was happy to provide. Even though he was always out and about with Kevo and Meek he was extremely responsible. He took his role as the man of his house seriously and held his two little sisters down well. Asia and Kana never wanted for candy money or hot meals on his watch and it was known in the hood that if anybody so much as looked at them sideways, Twan would stomp that ass with the quickness.

Shamiek was the God of the crew. He got knowledge of self when he was 8 and put 120 on cap when he was ten, exactly a year before moving to Chicago. An extremely calculating thinker, he was wise beyond his years and had always hung around brothas that were older than him. His enlightener was a powerful older God by the name of Be Wise Allah and he drilled the degrees into Meek’s third tighter than a boa constrictor squeeze. He had always been fascinated by the swag that the Gods in his hood manifested and with multiple cousins and uncles who were part of Allah’s Nation of Gods & Earths, becoming a five-percenter was a no-brainer for him. Due to his thick east coast accent, the fact that he didn’t eat swine, and the mathematical way he saw and built on things, Kevo and Twan consistently made fun of him. The God wasn’t bothered by it though because it was generally good-natured ribbing and over the years he had shown and proven the practical application potential of his culture so they knew it was no joke. He even managed to convince them to reduce their swine intake drastically although Kevo had periodic relapses, especially on the 4th of July. The biggest impact Meek was able to make was getting them to greet him by saying “peace.” He said it so much and they dug the way it sounded so much that they just started doin’ it as well. Since he lived I-God culture to the fullest Meek was the most cerebral of the group and his two counterparts often sought his advice in tough situations. Based on the fact that he was always so level headed they trusted that he would never lead them in the wrong direction.

The three of them were now 22 years of age and their lives were going in different directions. Now that the projects were torn down they didn’t live within’ walking distance from one another although they still hung out a lot and talked on the phone everyday. Kevo lived with his uncle Ron, who was a GD board member with crazy pull in the streets. Even though he had a job he was still sellin’ weed because Ron kept so much of it and gave him such a good price on it since he was family. Twan and Meek shared a spot on 48th and Michigan. Meek was working and in school at Loyola University up north. Twan had a telemarketing job and between that and being a ghetto jiggalo, he was more than capable of paying his share of the bills, keeping gas in his car, and staying freshly dressed. The God Meek was an early riser so he would often leave for work at 5 in the morning. He didn’t start until 8, but he was in good with the supervisor so he always went in early so he could use the office PC to do research and type papers. The fact that he left out so early every day, and came home so late, suited Twan’s program perfectly. That gave him plenty of time to run his girls in an out and play Madden with the volume all the way up, without worrying about disturbing anyone. Although he typically slept in, Twan was up early this morning to the surprise of his roommate.

“Peace Sun,” Meek said as he entered the living room to grab his back pack. “How long you been up G?” “Shit I been up since about 3, couldn’t sleep.” The God Meek saw Supreme Mathematics in everything, a quality that often agitated his friends. Needless to say, he didn’t care. He was living mathematics and anyone in his circumference would either honor it or travel. “You been up since the understandin’ hour? Well, understandin’ is sight of mind so you must have saw somethin’ in your sleep that woke you up. Did you have a dream?” Even though he was accustomed to Meek’s natural inclination to build on everything through math, he still had to talk shit to him. “Damn G, just because I been up since three that don’t mean there’s some mathematical significance which relates that hour to me havin’ a dream. Sometimes you be reachin’ with your supreme math.” Meek smirked and immediately fired back. “God, if I’m reachin’ then show and prove. Answer the question. Did you have a dream?”

“Yeah man.” Twan replied. “Indeed. That shows and proves the mathematical significance and that I wasn’t reachin’ nigga. I been tellin’ you since we was shorties that supreme mathematics speaks Sun and when it does you gotta listen. Now what was the dream about?”

Twan was hesitant to reveal the nature of his dream because he had an idea of where Meek’s analysis of it would go. He’d heard the whole “blackman is god” script more times than he could count and although he could see some plausibility in it, there wasn’t enough for him to fully bear witness.

“Don’t you gotta go to work nigga?” Twan was clearly bowing out of the conversation.

“Why equal self, I’m bout to travel as soon as I get this bagel out the toaster. Yo man, you think you can try to straighten up in the front after you kick that chick out ya bed? My Earth comin’ through to study with me this evening and I don’t want her cleanin’ up after you and yo hookers no more.”

Twan loved when I-Refined came through the rest. Not only would she clean up, even if he tried to stop her, but she could cook her ass off and refused to leave her God or his roommate with an empty belly.

“Aw hell yeah, I-Refined commin’ through? That’s what I’m talkin’ about imma be good and hungry by the time I get in this evening and I know she gone hook somethin’ up for the God and his main man, even if he is a 85er.” They both burst into laughter at the sarcastic remark.

“You are a build power nigga, fortunately for you I’m all about my duty as a civilized person and leadin’ you in the right direction will be my greatest challenge. Frankly, I find it disturbing that you get fringe benefits just because MY Earth is right and exact. Seein’ as how you didn’t teach her a single degree or do anything to cultivate her it just don’t quite seem right.”

At this point, Twan was in rare form and continued to pour the bullshit on thick. “It’s a credit to you ‘Almighty’ you did such a good job makin’ sure her MVP and GCC was laid down right she can’t help but manifest that each and everyday and each and every way!” Meek almost spit apple juice all over the floor the laughter hit his gut so hard.

“I hate you Twan word is bond! And for the record, it’s MGT and GCC idiot. If you stop dealin’ with that mystery God and knowledge 120 you’ll know that.” On his way out, his friend gave him a typical dismissive rebuttal.

“Whatever nigga. Peace.”

Preme.

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