Mike Enemigo’s Cell Block publishes books authored by prisoners. Many of the stories are based around the Bay Area, Sacramento, Stockton and LA. These are stories written by folks who have lived in the trenches and are using their time to be productive and exercise their creative muscles. If you want tales from the streets or advice from proven hustlers, these releases might be for you. We’ll be dropping teasers of some of Cell Block’s releases.
To kick off this series of teasers, we’ll take a look a chapter 1 of How to Hustle & Win: Sex, Money, Murder Edition by Mike Enemigo and King Guru. The self-help book was written as Guru faced a life sentence. He wanted to share all the game he’d gathered to date. He eventually beat that sentence, but the book still dropped. Check out chapter 1 below!
You can get your hands on one of these books for just $2.99 at the link below!
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Chapter 1: Beware Of Actors
Roaming the turf with clenched teeth and minced eyes; known for pistol play and flashing
the piece. Upholding a real goon’s disguise; mobbin’ with a crew, tormenting the streets.
Got his weight up with killa status; staying extra hard on suckaz. But don’t let the
image fool ya’, lil’ daddy; he’s a down-ass mark and a hellafied busta…
— Cleveland D. Russell
Beware: be wary, cautious, or vigilant
Actors: one who acts.
I’m not talking about Terrance Howard or Denzel Washington. This section is all about
them fake-ass niggaz who dress and act the part of real goons. They’re so good, they
deserve Oscars for the roles they play. Let’s think about this: for two hours, almost any
actor in Hollywood can make you believe he’s anyone he says he is. What’s stopping “Joe
Blow” from making you think he’s a real nigga, for, let’s say… fifteen minutes? Some
individuals are just natural actors; they’re so good, they’ll even start believing their
own lies.
Everyone in the Game has a story to tell about a time they got played. Most of the
time, you won’t hear about it, though. Because the outcome of these situations tends to
end up in death, or imprisonment, these stories end up getting lost in translation. So if
you ever came in contact with one of these types of actors, be thankful that you’re still
breathing. Things could’ve ended up a lot worse than you think.
Whenever I think of actors under these terms, two specific individuals come to mind.
Not because they were the only ones I’ve come into contact with over the years. I’ve met
multitudes throughout my travels. These two come to mind because I actually built a team
around them. They both played parts worthy of an Oscar until the situation got too real.
That’s when they bailed on their contracts.
It all happened when I moved to Tennessee and set up shop in Chattanooga. One of the
characters in this saga was my half-brother, Eddie. The other one was a cat named Miles;
he was from Illinois.
Eddie and I had the same pops, different mothers. He was raised in the Bronx and had
the whole New York swagger poppin’ off. By the time I got to Chattanooga he had already
been out there for a few years. He already knew the players as well as the terrain. Man,
if you could’ve heard this fool talk, you would’ve thought he was the real deal. I sure
did. He had a fully automatic mouthpiece that he shot off 24 hours a day.
When I first got out there, I didn’t have much money, so I found a job at a
telemarketing company. That’s where I met Miles. We were both the same age, and from out
of town, so we gravitated towards one another. Miles was a light-skinned brother, about
six feet and three inches. He weighed a good three hundred pounds, too. He’d always come
to work in slacks and a button up. By his conversation alone, I could tell he was raised
in a square environment, but I still gave him the benefit of the doubt. At work, everyone
had to act and dress conservatively. That’s understandable, however, the truth of the
matter was that Miles wasn’t acting at work, he was being himself.
I eventually started riding around wit’ blood, after work and on the weekends. At the
time, I was only coppin’ small amounts of crack, so he witnessed me making sales and
packin’ pistols. It wasn’t long before he was hustlin’ right next to me. As I look back,
I can truthfully say that he was around before the real money started coming in. Before
the flashy cars and the big house in north Chattanooga.
Around this time, Eddie and I came up with a plan to take over the neighborhood we
were hustling out of. To this day, I don’t know if he thought I was playing, but I was
dead serious. I’ll always remember the night we came up with the plan. We were watching a
DVD on the Booby Boys — a crew out of Miami that were literally shooting different spots
up and taking them over. I recall turning towards my half-brother and saying, “I can do
that! On bloods, I was doing it in Cali for free!” That night, we made the plan.
While I was preparing to go to war, Miles was going through a transformation. He
bought a Cutlass, had it painted and put some big-boy rims on it. He also changed his
dress code; losing the business attire for baggy jeans and white T’s. He even changed the
way he talked. Remember, Miles was from up North, he had a Northern accent. Now, he was
dragging his words to make himself sound more Southern. I actually watched this
metamorphosis take place right before my eyes.
Like I said, he was there before a lot of the money came. He was around when I was on
my deep grind, so we spent a lot of time together. And he was one of those guys that
couldn’t get the hint when he wasn’t wanted, ergo, he basically lived on my couch.
The time came when we started putting our scheme into action. A few military moves
were made, and I ended up shooting one of the enemies. His name was Dog Pound. I shot ’em
in front of three or four of his comrades. After that happened, I shut down shop in
Southside and laid up at the big house on the Northside for a few days.
It was three days before I got the call from my brother. This was the call we had all
been waiting on, because we didn’t know whether the police were involved, or not. That
call went something like this:
Eddie: “God, where you at?!”
Me: I’m at the house… what’s good?”
Eddie: “I just got word, them suckaz didn’t call the Jakes! They seem to be followin’
the rules, son. We at war now. Where you at?!”
Me: “Is that right…”
Eddie: “Yeah, and you’re lookin’ real pussy right now! You need to get back at the
trap so we can murk all these niggazl”
Me: “A’ight, blood, I’m there…”
By the end of that call, Miles and my female, Melody, were drooling for details. When
I told them to get the guns ready, we were going to war, their responses were totally
opposite. Melody, afraid that I would end up in jail for shooting Dog Pound, let out a
breath of relief. However, on the other side of the living room, Miles was trippin’. The
look on his face was grim; he was in deep, contemplative thought. What this coward said
next blew my mind.
“Hey, bruh… I hope you don’t think anything funny about this, but I think I need a
lil’ break. It’s been a minute since I been home, so I’m gonna go see what’s up at the
house for a few days…”
Man, y’all, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was the same irritating
motherfucker that I couldn’t pay to kick rocks a few days earlier. And now that the war
was on, he was ready to cash in his 401k! I was so mad, but what could I do? I had my
hands full with the upcoming war, so I didn’t have the time or the heart to deal with
what had transpired. This cat was supposed to be my dog, and he was asking to leave right
when I needed him the most. Up to that point nothing like that had ever happened to me. I
didn’t know what to do.
I let him go and kept pushing. I never saw Miles again. Later, I heard he moved back
up North and joined the military.
So it was me and my brother against a clique of locals. Which wasn’t as bad as it
sounds, because I had experience in warfare, and so did Eddie (at least, that’s what I
thought at the time).
In retrospect, I now know that the only person who really had my back was Melody. When
the gunplay started, Eddie started acting erratic. That’s when I realized things weren’t
kosher with blood. Every time there was a shoot-out, for some reason, he was never
around. Nevertheless, he’d always show up the next day talking about what he would’ve
done if he was around when it all went down.
He talked such a good one; I still believed he was a real one. Then one day, it all
came out. At one point, during the war, my enemies found out about my house on the
Northside. In a twenty-four hour period, they shot up my house and my trap. I blamed it
on this guy named L.L. who lived across the street from my big house on the Northside. He
knew people from the Southside, and he disappeared shortly after the drive-bys occured.
On this particular day, L.L. showed up at my trap to buy some work. He came in a car
with another guy, but his friend stayed outside while he came in to handle business. Once
he was inside, I gave him some lame excuse about not having any dope. I told him to hold
on for a minute while I walked around the corner and got some from my brother. Then I
rushed to my brother’s house. As soon as I saw Eddie, I told him who was at my trap he
turned into beast-mode cowboy! His whole demeanor turned gangsta’, so we rushed back to
my place.
When we got back to the trap, I left my brother in the kitchen with L.L. while I went
to the back room to get my gun. By the time I came back, Eddie had L.L. by the shirt
collar, questioning him about the drive-bys. That was all I needed to see. I went
straight towards L.L. and started pistol whippin’ him. The more I swung, the more blood
flew. The white T he came in was now crimson.
The whole time I was beatin’ ’em I kept asking who shot-up my houses. He denied
everything, so I kep swinging my cannon. Blood was everywhere. At one point, he got so
tired of getting pounded on he yelled, “If you don’t believe me, shoot me then!”
Bang!
I shot ’em…
I shot him in his kneecap. Then I remembered there was someone outside who was waiting
for him to come out. So I told Eddie to watch him while I went outside and got the other
guy. As I stepped out the side door, I was thinking that the other guy had heard the
gunshot. I didn’t know how I was going to get him inside the house without making a
scene. As I approached the car, the guy seemed cool. He hadn’t heard the shot, so I told
him L.L. wanted to see him inside, and he came in with no problem.
The second we stepped in the house, I pulled out my pistol and put it to the guy’s
head. Then I told him to get on his knees. After that, I covered his face with a dishrag.
That’s when Melody came in from the back room and I told her to go to the bathroom and
take out all the rugs. I was planning on killing both men in the bathtub. Melody didn’t
question, nor second guess me in any way. A real trooper. So then I turned to Freddy,
just in time to see him take off running after Melody. As soon as it happened, lights
started flashing in my head. Something wasn’t right, and the discrepancy was coming from
Eddie’s end.
Later on that evening, Melody told me what took place in that bathroom. It went
something like this:
Eddie ran into the small bathroom looking terrified, and he asked Mel, “What the fuck
is wrong with Guru?!”
She replied, “What’re you talking about?”
“He lost his God-damn mind! We can’t kill these people!”
“Why not?”
Eddie looked at her like she had shit on her face and said, “Oh-my-God! you guys are
both crazy!”
Then he ran out the bathroom and came back to the kitchen. When I saw him, he had
already started sweating. He tried to whisper something to me but I couldn’t understand
what he was saying. Meanwhile, L.L. was crying and yelling things like, “I’m losing too
much blood… Everything is getting blurry… I can’t see…”
In the midst of all the commotion, Melody calmly walked into the kitchen, filled up a
cup with water and handed it to him. Then she said, “Shut the fuck up and drink this!”
At that moment, the whole room went quiet. Even L.L. was shocked at her coldness. With
all eyes on her, Melody looked at me and told me the bathroom was clear.
The next thing I know, Eddie had snatched the dishrag from the other guy’s face and
was telling him to look at me. “Tell ’em you won’t snitch if he lets you go!”
The guy didn’t reply. He just sat there, staring at Eddie like he was the crazy one.
The vibe that I got was that he had already accepted the fact that he was about to die.
I’ve thought about that moment several times throughout my life, and I always come to the
same conclusion; at that moment in time, that man had come to terms with his fate. When
Eddie realized he wasn’t going to plead for his life, he turned to L.L. with the same
song and dance.
That’s when I understood what was going on. If I was going to finish the job, I’d have
to kill Eddie, too. And some quick street algebra told me that I couldn’t kill my half-
brother. Not because of any type of inbred loyalty to the man. That was lost the moment I
saw the pussy in his eyes. The problem was that his wife was standing right there when I
showed up at his house telling him to come with me.
I had to let them all go.
I was eventually arrested for that shooting. Other than L.L., Eddie was the number one
witness against me. He even came forward with the same forty caliber Glock that I shot
L.L. with.
$$$$$
I’m the type of person who looks at the bright side of every situation. And the best I
can get out of this particular incident is that I’m glad Eddie bitched up when he did. If
he hadn’t, I probably would’ve been convicted of a double homicide instead of aggravated
assault. The same feeling goes for Miles, too. I’m glad he bounced before he witnessed
some real shit.
These are just two scenarios in my life that taught me a serious lesson about
counterfeit gangstaz. They talk a good one, even dress the part, but as soon as shit hits
the fan they’ll drop the script and leave you hanging. Since then, I’ve become a pretty
good movie critic. I pretty much know an actor when I see one.
As you delve deeper into this book you’ll find information that will allow you to
recognize these types of individuals when you meet them. Nine times outta ten, you’ve
already met people like this, so you know what I’m talking about. If you know anyone in
your life who may fit into this category, you need to separate yourself from that person
immediately! Or else, you run the risk of losing everything you’ve been working towards,
and that’s not cool.
Afterthought: Over 90% of compulsive liars come to believe their own lies…
— Psychology Today