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hits hard

Ain’t Just Paint ,It’s a Statement / TLS Got the Streets Marked I Ain’t Just Paint ,It’s a Statement / TLS Got the Streets Marked II Ain’t Just Paint ,It’s a Statement / TLS Got the Streets Marked III Paintin' Streets / Payin' Damages I Paintin' Streets / Payin' Damages II Paintin' Streets / Payin' Damages III

Plug or Perish / Locote Shooter Rises I Plug or Perish / Locote Shooter Rises II Plug or Perish / Locote Shooter Rises III Plug or Perish / Locote Shooter Rises IV

((credits to Anas for the screenshots ))

Well done, lads.

Behind the Tints / Only Real Shit Moves I Behind the Tints / Only Real Shit Moves II Behind the Tints / Only Real Shit Moves III

Darius Cook knew what he was walking into. 38th Street wasn’t friendly territory. Word on the street was that it moved heavy product, but only if you were tapped in, and Darius wasn’t... not yet. Most folks kept their distance. You don’t just pull up over there asking for a plug unless you either bold or stupid. Darius was neither. He was calculated... and desperate enough to gamble. Darius didn’t believe in love at first sight Whatever this feeling was, it had him twisted. He had just met her, Danielle. A friend of a friend type situation. She came through to kick it, nothing serious. Just a mellow link-up, a little smoke, some music low in the background... No heavy makeup, no loud energy. Just her... calm, confident, real. The ringtone hit different when it was from jail. Darius was counting up in the backroom when his phone lit up with "Inmate Call - Correctional Facility" across the screen. He already knew who it was. Korey. Been down for a week now... picked up on some light charge, supposedly. But there was always more to it than what made it on paper... Darius skipped the city. No flashy flights, no credit cards, nothing traceable. Left the city, kept his face down and his name quiet. Rented a small spot out in the hills somewhere... out the city, off-grid.

"Let’s get this block movin’—start pushin’, homie." 1/2 "Let’s get this block movin’—start pushin’, homie." 2/2

BBL

🐐

Darius Cook fell in love with breaking and entering. The thrill, the come-up, the silence before the score. Creepin' through windows and backdoors became second nature. What started as survival turned into a whole new hustle. He studied locks like textbooks or he'd just smashed the door in. What hits different, though, was when his small circle or even the neighborhood fiend chasing a quick fix was down to ride with him. That loyalty, that hunger? It fueled the game even more. To Darius, it wasn’t just burglary anymore it became a business. Darius Cook eventually slipped up. Mid-burglary, walking outside to the van, he got blindsided. A hard surprise tackle from Officer Abraham Rutherford sent him straight to the ground. Darius never saw it coming. The wrestling began but Darius lost... The cuffs came tight, and the moment turned cold and tense real quick. He did a little time, got out on probation... but Darius being Darius, didn’t stay quiet for long. Days later, a stupid move, he launched a spraycan straight at Officer Colt Faulkner **bang** nailed him clean in the head. Faulkner didn’t toss him back in a cell though not just yet. Nah... Faulkner got personal. Faulkner kicked the shit out of Darius. Street justice, officer-style. Then he threw him in the cell. Darius Cook still stands on “no love, no trust.” He keeps it solid, shows respect to those who earn it and the streets return the favor. But when it’s time to get gangster, everything flips upside down. Loyalty fades, masks come off, and survival mode kicks in.