I didn’t go to college. I graduated from North Springs and went straight for my dreams. I never appreciated the pissing and moaning of “broke college kids”. It sounded oxymoronic to me. All the broke kids I knew couldn’t go to college. Then I met more college kids…then I met Wil May.
We piled in with the homies after some party at The Royal Friday. Flying around town looking for some random shit to fall into, we landed at Wil May’s place. A…Loft? um Apartment? Err…Bachelor pad? Nah. All that down plays the shit. He had some MTV REAL WORLD shit low key under a bridge in Castleberry Hill District of Atlanta. It was my uninformed assumption that Mr. May had come from a spoiled rotten childhood with papered up parents. It didn’t mean shit to me. I was going to drink dude's alcohol and call a chick. I was posted. I had a seat on the patio with my people and out comes him. He’s all chill with the low tops on and the signature checkered fitted. He dapped me up and introduced himself. Cool enough. We sitting around popping shit and someone asked me to spit a verse. Wil and I get the two-man cipher going. I was spitting my pimping and he was rhyming about skeeting on white girls. The shit was just fun.
I didn’t stay a lot longer... and because the guy wasn’t a dick, I felt like I shouldn’t just drink all the alcohol. I had a drink and broke out but I wondered, “What does this nigga do”
I soon found out the hustle.
Ladies and Gentlemen:
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