Son of an Assassin (684 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.52 on 19 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by harmlessness (View user info) at 2005-02-19 21:34:51 EST
I was six years old when I saw my father murder. It was on the corner of 54th and 3rd. I was riding with him, doing 'business,' as he called it. In reality, he was collecting money from his hoes. I remember him telling me to look for two women, one black and one white. And I found them. He parked the car across the street and said "Sit tight, Brian."
He got out and sauntered towards the women, who appeared startled when they saw him. As he approached them, they started flailing their hands and talking. Daddy didn't want none of that. He held his right hand out, and they continued to talk. It looked like they were trying to explain something to him. As quickly as it all had started, his left hand went for his chrome-plated .45, and before I realized what he was doing, both of the whores were lying in a pool of blood. Daddy's gun had two less bullets in it, and as he stepped back onto the street, he looked both ways.
When he got back in the car, nothing was said. He had left it running, and he just dropped it in gear and we were gone. On the way back home, he pulled into a parking lot.
"Brian," he said, "you can't tell anyone what just happened."
"Don't worry, Daddy. I won't."
And it was over.
************************************************
Now I'm 23 years old. I rent a townhouse with my fiancée and our two kids, Brian Lee Carter III and Tasha Marie Carter. Every night I tell them I love them, because I don't know when I'll see them next. Brian is 6 and Tasha's 4.
I never got involved in the pimp game. I never will; I think it's wrong. I make my money honestly, down at the plant. Some say I'm the most educated person they know. Not that it's really an honor- most people around here are gang-bangers. They don't know anything other than how to get high, kill, and steal.
Want something to drink? I know you've been out running around all day, man. Oh, come on. There's beer in the fridge. Help yourself.
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I'll be right back, someone's at the door.
The man who stands before me as I open the door puts a tear in my eye.
"Pop? Why are you- How?"
"I broke out, son. Ain't no time for hugs, I need your help. I need a place to go, and some cash. I need some clothes. You about my size, son."
"Pop, come in.."
"You been doin' good for yourself, son. Real good."
"Pop, I know where we can go. I've got about ten grand saved up, but I'll have to leave half for Marie and the kids. Go upstairs and grab a bunch of clothes, they'll fit both of us."
-------------------------------------
"Who was it?"
"It doesn't matter. I don't mean to be rude, but do you have a ride home? I've got some stuff to deal with."
"Yeah, let me use your phone real quick."
"Okay, just let yourself out when you go. Goodnight."
-------------------------------------
"Pop? You ready?"
"Almost. You got any guns?"
"In the closet, on the top shelf, there's a black box. Open that and grab my .45s. And yours. Yours are in there, too, Pop. Just how you left them. Clips are loaded, but there's a shoe box full of ammo."
I can't believe it. Thirteen years after my pop gets locked up, he's in my house. Running from the police. That's just like Pop, though. Always running from something.
"Son, there's cops outside. You ready for this?"
"Ready for anything, Pop. Ain't no going back.
"Follow me, then."
We're running out the back door, but the place is surrounded. Each of us has a gun in each hand. A shot is fired, and the glass door we just opened shatters. But Pop don't want none of that. He raises both hands and starts pulling the triggers. Pop is a good shot, too. With each explosion, a man falls.
Next thing I know, we're both running as fast as we can from my life. Bullets whiz by our bodies. One tears through my jeans, narrowly missing my leg. God must be protecting---
Pop flies forward as the back of his right leg is obliterated by hot lead. Even with one leg rendered useless, he is still moving forward as fast as I am. I turn around and empty both fresh clips, sending the cops into frenzy.
My left arm! Blood and flesh spray against Pop when a bullet hits me. Three more shots and Pop's gone. Both guns fire one last time as they hit the ground; one towards the cops and one towards me.
Pop's life has destroyed mine. My own tears mix with Pop's blood, which splattered on my face. I am the son of an assassin, but
*BANG*
And it's black.
User Reviews
Submitted by Siren (user info) at 2005-02-21 01:22:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You a gangsta!!
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2005-02-20 23:57:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
oh yeah? put yer dukes up!
Submitted by electrictoothsyndrome (user info) at 2005-02-20 20:39:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
The story didn't seem to explain anything or go anywhere. THe characters didn't have enough depth. I don't know anything about them, and I just read the whole thing. All I know is that they are both pretty static throughout.
It's not bad - i mean I get the whole 'like father like son' thing, but again, it just didn't seem to go anywhere really. You can do better.
That's my honest opinion.
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2005-02-20 12:15:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
this was an experimental post.. I've never written anything in first person narrative before.
Submitted by GodLovesALittleLovin (user info) at 2005-02-20 01:58:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
very nice
Submitted by Delora (user info) at 2005-02-19 22:48:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No, pretty sure no one does. Bizzy didn't come back and he never paid the company that pissed him off. Hell, I wouldn't either. I guess they got drunk alot at the recording studio. I think that would have been pretty funny to watch.
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2005-02-19 22:43:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Would you happen to have access to the stuff they recorded together?
Submitted by Delora (user info) at 2005-02-19 22:41:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
My brother in law recorded some stuff with Bizzy. Weird thing was that it wasn't even close to rap...more like heavy rock...needless to say it went nowhere. Bizzy didn't pay the recording company (in Columbus)and the owner got pretty pissed and so Bizzy got pissed. I wonder if the lyrics are a true rendition of parts of their lives? It's like the seven degrees of Kevin Bacon. Shrug.
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2005-02-19 22:32:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Delora, no offense taken.
I agree with the bit about the assassin/murdering pimp. However, this post was inspired by the story told in the song with the same name, so I can't really change it.
Lyrics:
[Layzie]
Now see I'm cockrrring up my nine
I'm poprrring in the clip and cap
And let you know what's really happening
With that son of an assassin (son of an assassin)
Feelin' this killin' and peelin' caps cause I can't stop
My gangsta attitude comes from my muthafuckin pops kickin' ass
And the #1 Assassin blastin' niggas for nothin'
Peelin caps with a passion
Now, I can remember when I was just a little niggero
Rollin' through the hood with my pops
I watched him kill a ho
Boom (Boom!) was the sound
Of the nine when they kill ya
So you didn't pay your debt
But you had to pay the consequence
(But you had to pay the consequence
And blood splattered all on the ground - it made my ass sick
I watched her fall and hit the ground
Just like a damn brick (damn brick)
He hit the gas, and we was tickets with the quickness
"G, she tried to play me out
That's the way it gotta be
Yeah," that's what he said
"Don't tell a soul, if you love me son"
He gave me a hug. I said, "I won't
'Cause I know how it's done."
And now I lay me down to sleep
Hopin' that I don't dream
'Cause every night I get a vision of that
Same thing (the same one I fucked up)
And like a fool I'm on a block
We're sellin' mo' dope, fuckin' wit my cash flow
Like pops I let my gun smoke
I made a promise
I won't tell if your askin'
I'm just that muthafuckin son of an assassin
[Krayzie]
Ever since I was seven I've been a troubled-ass nigga
Used to sneak my father's guns just to play with that triggas
(Don't fuck with my guns, boy)
One day I'm playin' with the nine
I get a flashback, and get to thinkin' about
The muthaf**kin' bullies in my class
That's always fuckin with me, but this shit's has to stop
The next morning I snuck
And I stuck my father's nine in my lunchbox
I'm on my way to school, that's when I spotted the faggot
Removed the nine from the lunchbox
And slipped the bitch my jacket
Now I'm lookin' for a reason just
To straight let the trigger click
I walked over to him and said
"What's up now, bitch?"
The f**ka-sucka started steppin'
And it swung but he missed
I knew the nigga felt pissed
'Cause it was the nine that he kissed
I socked the bitch in the face
And to the ground with this sucka
And this boy didn't hesitate
He broke off quicker than a muthafucka (Run, muthafucka, run!)
Ran inside the building thinking that was gonna save him
But I caught up with the nigga
Pulled out the nine, and I sprayed him
Tossed the gun to the pavement
I'm heading straight for the hizzy
No more will Krayzie be bullied
Cause Krayzie Bone just got busy
Then ran home, told my father
He said "I know why you did it, son
The punk was fuckin' with ya, so ya had to get rid of him"
Heard a knock on the door, he thought
"Yo, what the fuck is this?!"
Police surrounded my hizzy with reporters and psychologists
My father grabbed his gun and started pullin' the trigger
("Get him, Dad, get him!")
Now you know why I'm labeled a little crazy-ass nigga
I watched while my Pops continued blastin'
My attitude is hereditary, nigga
'Cause I'm the son of an assassin
[Bizzy]
My father went in the pen when I was 'bout two or three
They had caught him (Jail ain't shit!)
For manslaughter and murder in the first degree
I haven't heard from him in about a month or two
Until one night when I was watchin the eleven'oclock news
'Cause I guess there's some insane inmate
Just now broke out the pen
And he can either be in Lorain
Columbus, or Cleveland
Right then it dawned upon me I'm like
"What in the Hell?!"
And then I heard a "ring-ring" on my doorbell
So when I opened the door, and much more to my surprise
Me and my pops was face to face
Lookin' eye to eye (Hello, son)
He said, "Son I'm on the run
And I don't wanna be alone"
I said, "Don't say another word
'Cause me and you is gone"
I went upstairs and got the gauge
The pump, the nine's legit
Until holice got in the yard and cold stormed the shit
We jumped up into the(Gauge to your ass, nigga) hizzy
I threw my daddy the nine
I shot one cop in the chest;
He shot two cops in the spine
You know I'm pullin' the trigger, right
My bullets steadily hittin'
I go to pull it again, shit (damn)
I ran out of ammunition
(Where the f**k are the bullets at?!)
I reach up for the pump
And in a flash I got dumped and turned around
Holice gonna smoke my ass
I can feel my life (Son!) passin'
I know I'm bout to die too
And just before I left I said "Dad, I love you
(I love you, Dad)"
--------------------------------------------------------------------
as you can tell, the post was VERY loosely based on the song.
Submitted by Delora (user info) at 2005-02-19 22:21:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Anything with assassin in the title and I'm game to read. But honestly, this should have been titled "The Son of a Murdering Pimp". When I think of an assassin, I think about their various tools of trade and how they go about killing their victims. Everytime I stumble across a book with an assassin in it, I can't seem to put it down. This story had alot more potential but I don't mean any disrespect to you or Bone Thugs.
Submitted by jayjonze (user info) at 2005-02-19 22:12:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it
Submitted by maiorano84 (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:59:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bush - That's a pretty fucking stupid reason to take away points. I hate rap, and I'll still listen to SOME. Seriously, saying an entire genre sucks is about the most ignorant thing anybody can say. On top of that, he only said he was inspired by the song. He never started talking about how awesome rap is.
Rate the post on the writing, not what it was inspired by.
Submitted by facesun (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:58:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Lechuga (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:54:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ohh snap!
Submitted by Slypher (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:49:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Hahahahahahaahahahahahahahaha...rap.
Submitted by beancat (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:48:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Kinda creepy... but you got +2's for life, so....
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:47:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
bush_for_god, you're a fucking retard.
You should've given me a -2.
I listen to everything. Right now I'm listening to Presidents of the United States of America, but next on my playlist is Shyne - Quasi OG.
Submitted by bush_for_god (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:46:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
this was about to be a +2, but then you had to ruin it by saying it was from a rap song.
rap sucks http://www.ubersite.com/m/55984 rap sucks
Submitted by StonedSilly (user info) at 2005-02-19 21:37:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I guess before I'm accused of plagiarism, this post was inspired in full by the song 'Bone Thugs 'n' Harmony - Son of an Assassin.'