80. Interview with Wayne “Classic” Price: Part 14

11 July 2011

– Earl was messed up, son. Prison’ll fuck a nigga’s head up like that.

– I ain’t think it was goin’ change Earl too much though, you know what I’m sayin’? I mean, I knew the shit’d get to him, but I ain’t think it’d get him that much.

– When Earl called me to pick him up after he got out the pen, he ain’t sound no different from when me and him used to chill back in the day, when we was young’ns. So I’m thinkin’ I’m goin’ pick up my cousin and we goin’ chill, you know what I’m sayin’? I’m thinkin’ I’ma pull up and Earl goin’ be standin’ there lookin’ all goofy and skinny and shit.

– We fam, son. I know that nigga, better than he probably know his own goddamn self.

– Last time I seen Earl, before he got locked up, he was clean. Nice fade, fresh kicks, decent lookin’. Type a nigga a bitch’d bring home so her pops’d stop cussin’ her out ‘bout the other niggas she be bringin’ ‘round the crib, know what I’m sayin’?

– But I pull up in front a the bus station this day, and Earl standin’ there lookin’ a hot mess. I’m talkin’, long, nappy ass hair all puffed out and comin’ down round his chin and covering his neck like he think he a lion or somethin’. Got me rememberin’ this brother I used to run with back in the day, Red.

– Red was a true hustlin’ ass nigga, son. Muhfucka’d cap yo ass for a dollar if you tried him, know what I’m sayin’?

– I mean, I hustle to make ends meet, son, but this nigga Red, he loved that shit. I’m talkin’, this nigga’d live the life for free son. Straight du-rags, Tim’s and Jets blazers, long, fresh braids.

– Me and Red used to slang shit out in the hood back in the day, cop a few dollars and shoot the rest at our connect. This one day, though, Red runs up on a crackhead looking nigga and starts in with his slick talk, tryna push a dime on the nigga. We’d copped an ounce, right? And we was tryin’ to turn that shit ‘fore anybody ran up on us and shit, know what I’m sayin’? Ain’t good to hold on to that shit too long.

– Turns out though, muhfucka Red was tryna push a dime on, wasn’t no real crackhead.

– Fuckin’ P.O.

– Undercover, nigga. Know what I’m sayin’?

– Fast nigga too, had Red on the concrete in cuffs before me or Red even figured out shit was goin’ down.

– Me? I dipped, son. I ain’t goin’ lie.

– Me and Red spoke ‘bout that shit before. Wasn’t like I was bitchin’ out or nothin’. Ain’t no sense in both a us getting took. So I booked it back to my ma’s crib, ain’t stop ‘til I got there.

– Got away too, but Red got sent upstate.

– Second offense, you know? Four and a half years mandatory.

– I’m gettin’ there, bruh. Point is, I ain’t hear from Red for a minute ‘til I saw him ‘bout a year before Earl came back from the pen, down by county. I’m coming up from the subway to go pay this ticket I got for a busted taillight—told you ‘bout that—and this muhfucka Red’s comin’ down past me, wearin’ a business suit and shit. Braids cut off, got a nice fade, can’t see none of his tatts and shit.

– I stop him and pound the brother and Red look at me like he don’t know me from Joe fuckin’ Blow. Like the nigga’s head got erased while he was locked up.

– And even when he started gettin’ into the shit and sayin’ ‘sup to me, I could still see it in his eyes. Nigga wasn’t there, son.

– Shit got real fucked up when I called him Red and his face just dropped and he all like, “Francisco.”

– So I’m like, who the fuck is Francisco? And Red tells me his name ain’t Red no more. It’s Francisco. Red’s in the past, man.

– That’s what he said: Red’s in the past.

– That’s how I felt when I picked Earl up that day. Like it wasn’t Earl no more.

– I mean, nigga looked kinda like Earl. Remembered the same shit Earl remembered. Sounded like the nigga a little. But that wasn’t my little cuz, bruh. That muhfucka was on some other shit.

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