{"product_id":"tales-from-da-hood-isbn-9780345484017","title":"Tales from da Hood","description":"These stories are not fables or fairy tales. They are severe chronicles of gangstas, written by men and women who have starved and bled and survived by the code of the streets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEssence magazine’s #1 bestselling author Nikki Turner has earned her rep as “the Princess of Hip-Hop” with gritty urban novels like A Hustler’s Wife and The Glamorous Life. Now she lends her considerable street cred to this anthology, the first of its kind–an explosive collection featuring edgy new writers Turner handpicked for their ability to evoke the street, and the people who live by its rules, in hot, hyperrealistic stories. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTurner scoured the ghetto, the prisons, and every crack and crevice around the country to bring you these impressive new fresh-from-the-street voices. Never one to disappoint her fans, Turner even throws in a raw gangsta tale of her own. From a buppie who risks her entire well-groomed world when she’s suddenly turned on by a thug (“Gotta Have a Ruffneck”), to a lesbian pimp who gets what she deserves from the women she’s turning out (“Big Daddy”), these stories will shock, entertain, and make you fly through the pages.“Nikki Turner has put together one helluva team for this one. Street Chronicles is a joint you need to cop!”\u003cbr\u003e–Thomas Long, author of Cash Rules\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Street Chronicles is a walk through any hood U.S.A.”\u003cbr\u003e–K’wan, national bestselling author of Gangsta, Street Dreams, and Hoodlum\u003cb\u003eNikki Turner\u003c\/b\u003e, Queen of Hip-Hop Lit, is the bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eHeartbreak of a Hustler’s Wife, Natural Born Hustler, Relapse, Ghetto Superstar, Black Widow, Forever a Hustler’s Wife, Riding Dirty on I-95, The Glamorous Life, A Project Chick, \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eA Hustler’s Wife, \u003c\/i\u003eand editor of and a contributing author to her Street Chronicles series. She is also editor of the Nikki Turner Presents line and has collaborated with hip-hop heavyweights such as 50 Cent, Dana Dane, and Styles P.Big Daddy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Penned by Seven, but lived by many\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It’s a slow night, not too many cars cruising up and down Second and Broad  for a Friday. This is partly due to the fact that NASCAR is at Richmond  International Speedway, and most of my clients are old white men who enjoy  that type of shit. I’m slowly losing my patience with Vanessa; the bitch  is walking at a slow, nonchalant pace instead of strutting her phat ass up  and down the block like I’ve taught her to do. I’m standing with my back  and one foot up against the wall by Eggleston’s Restaurant, thinking about  how badly I’m gonna choke the shit out of her if she don’t make me at  least $300 tonight. Tonight the stakes are raised because business has  been slow due to the races: I’m charging $40 for blowjobs, $50 for ass  licks, and $125 for the total package. Golden showers are going for $30  ’cause Nessa’s piss makes a nigga ass feel warm and fuzzy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Twenty minutes ago I made up my mind that I wasn’t gonna give her tired  walking ass anything. Can you believe it? The bitch had the audacity to  turn down a trick because he was Mexican. Talking about she could smell  bean burritos and shit on his breath. I punched the bitch hard enough to  frazzle her, but not hard enough to bruise her—couldn’t chance having my  moneymaker look tore up. I told her ass I didn’t give a fuck if she smelt  dog shit on his breath, she better had fucked and sucked his dick until  the mutherfucker couldn’t come any longer. This lazy-ass ho of mine ain’t  getting shit, not one copper penny tonight. She’s lucky if I still take  her ass to get her wig smoked, but it wouldn’t benefit me if I don’t.  There’s money out here to be made, and I got to keep my bitch looking good  at all times. Right now, I’ve got to go remind this trick bitch who’s in  charge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Bitch, you better pull that goddamn skirt up over your ass and stop these  mutherfucking cars out here. You think I’m fucking playing with you?” I  get up close and personal in the bitch’s ear, like she is deaf or  something, but she needs to hear loud and clear that I’m not on joke time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Daddy, I’m tired, my feet are hurting and so is my back. I told you not  to buy these cheap-ass shoes from Payless,” Nessa cries, as she stands  with one hand on her hip while the other hand holds   her strappy patent leather $9.99 buy-one-get-one-free high-heeled hooker  shoe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Bitch, don’t you ever back-talk me,” I say, raising my hand like I’m  gonna backhand her ass.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “I’ll buy you whatever the fuck I want your ass to have. I run this show.  You will wear, eat, say, and do whatever the hell I say. Is that  understood, bitch?” I scream at her as I jack her ass up by the collar of  her shirt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    It suddenly dawns on me: What the fuck is she doing wearing an oxford  shirt in fucking July? I let go of her shirt and stand back to get a  better view of her attire. Then I realize the bitch don’t look like a  hooker. Her ass is out on the ho stroll looking like a goddamn Sunday  school teacher. I grab the ho by her hair weave, yanking her to my chest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    She cries, pleading, “Daddy, let go of me, please, Daddy, don’t do this.”  She covers her head with her hand ’cause she knows I am about to go upside  it. Man, I am mad as hell. Here it is hotter than the Fourth of July and  this bitch is on the ho stroll in a mutherfucking long sleeve, pink oxford  shirt, revealing absolutely no cleavage. I smack the bitch so hard, she  falls to the ground. I stomp her ass with my black Timbs. I never rock the  butter ones when I’m working ’cause I don’t wanna scuff them shits up.  Vanessa’s ass is balled up in a knot, crying about how much she loves me  and asking why am I treating her this way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Then the bitch jumps up and begins running toward Broad Street. I know  that if she gets away, I won’t see her ass for a minute. Oh, she’ll stay  gone for a day or two, but she always finds her way back home to Daddy.  The bitch needs me like a crackhead needs crack, like Kool-Aid needs  sugar, and chitterlings need potato salad. Nessa couldn’t survive the  streets of Richmond without Big Daddy, ’cause for real, every ho needs a  nigga like me. I made that bitch who she is today. If it wasn’t for me,  she’d be homeless, hungry, and ugly as a mutherfucker. Truth be told Nessa  ain’t all that pretty, but the bitch has the baddest body in Richmond, and  she sucks a mean dick. She’s five feet seven inches with a caramel  complexion and a 36-24-36 shape. Yeah, she’s a straight brick house. Her  ass is so phat, I like to hit it from the back, doggy style, and man, oh  man the bitch’s pussy is vicious. Granted, Nessa has a white liver and  loves to fuck, but nobody can hit that g-spot like me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Nessa is running in and out of traffic. Beep-beep-Beep, cars are blowing  their horns for her to get out of the street. The bitch is running like  Flo Jo in the Summer Olympics. Then I realize she’s heading toward the  Slip at Shockoe. I don’t know why but I keep running behind her. Since we  aren’t the type to hang in the Slip, I can’t understand why Nessa is  willing to die to get there. Maybe she knows a nigga there she can turn a  quick trick with; whatever the reason, I ain’t gonna stop chasing the  bitch. Besides she’s wearing the skirt I bought from Rainbow and the track  of weave I got her ass from Ruby Red. If I have to snatch my shit off her  ass, I will. The bitch is straight up disrespecting me; the more she runs  the hotter   I get.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    When we get to the front door of the club, the bouncer motions for us to  go in. Nessa is about two people in front of me, but he knows we’re  together. He’s a big fat mutherfucker from Nine Mile Road. He used to do  security at the convenience store over there, so I just nod and he knows  what time it is. You see, he’s tricked with Nessa before and he knows  she’s my ho. I give his fat ass a half smile as I look at him. I remember  Nessa telling me how that nigga wanted her to put her finger in his ass.  She told me she was able to get two fingers in at one time. She said that  big nigga moaned in sheer delight as she shoved them shits in his ass. He  must’ve been used to taking it in the rear. He paid Nessa $35 for a finger  fuck. Now he standing at the door, acting like he the mutherfucking man  and shit. I got no respect for da nigga. Nigga lets us in for free, ’cause  he ain’t want his secret to get out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    By the time I get in, Nessa is sitting at the bar. Her shoes are back on  and her shirt tail is hanging out. I walk over to the bar and whisper in  her ear, “It’s okay, baby. Go fix yourself up.” Nessa stands and walks  toward the back to the restroom. I scope the room, seeing wall-to-wall  drug dealers, a couple college cats, and a bunch of low-life bums who  ain’t doing shit with their lives except throwing them away. You can tell  who the niggas from the streets are because they never dance; they just  flex their gear, represent their hood, and nod their heads to a few rap  songs. The college niggas is up dancing around to house music, that shit  that Baltimore gets down with, and the slum-ass niggas, man, they whack  asses is always on the dance floor at the Slip, dancing harder than the  broads. Me, I just sit back and chill. I order me and Nessa a couple  Alizés, and wait to see what’s up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    When she returns from the back, she doesn’t even look like the same ho.  Nessa has wrapped her shirt around her waist and tied that mutherfucker in  a perfect bow. I don’t know what the fuck she did to the collar; she  must’ve tucked that mutherfucker under or something cause that shit was  gone. She’s combed her weave out and that shit is looking jive sexy. Her  lips are shining. I guess she borrowed some lip gloss from one of the  chicks in the bathroom, ’cause I don’t remember seeing any in her Dolce \u0026amp;  Gabanna bag.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The Slip at Shockoe has an interesting set-up. There are tables and chairs  for eating, a place in the back for taking pictures, and a small dance  floor. There’s a long glass mirror on the wall so people can look at  themselves as they dance. I am sipping on my Alizé when suddenly I hear a  nigga yelling, “Damn, man, that bitch is bad.” As I turn to look, Nessa  has taken over the dance floor. She is jamming with all eyes on her. I  notice a lot of chicks standing and watching, trying to take in a few slut  moves. Nessa works that ass like something you’ve never seen before. Her  skirt is well above her hips and her ass and thong show every time she  bends over. The DJ is spinning “Rump Shaker,” the jam by Wreckx-N-Effect,  and Nessa is making that songwriter proud. My shit gets hard just watching  her move; Nessa’s ass moves like waves in the ocean. I see a few niggas  holding their dicks, as if they want to hit. Then I spot Turk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Turk is a big-time drug dealer from Churchill. He gets paid out the  yin-yang. Turk grew up in Mosby Court and had moved his family out to  Chesterfield County, way out in the suburbs. He is pushing a 1993 Lexus  Coupe and is dating the baddest hairdresser in town. Shit, with his drugs  and her clientele, them niggas was getting paid. His girl, Lil Mo  Sumptner, works at the salon on Second and Leigh, near the spot where the  prostitutes work. Her clientele is so big she works seven days a week, six  a.m. to ten p.m. I wonder when the fuck did Turk have time to hit that.  Lil Mo is bad, too; she’s a short cutesy momma, about five feet one, 125  pounds, light-skinned with long silky hair, hazel eyes, and a nice round  ass. She reminds me of the chick that played Ronnie in Menace II Society,  except her hips and ass are a lil bit thicker. Niggas say she came to the  city out of nowhere and hooked up with Turk in a matter of days. Don’t  nobody know where she came from, but I sure as hell knows where I want her  ass to be. I wouldn’t mind making her my ho, but Lil Mo got too much class  for that. She would never trick, as fine as she is; she never would have a  reason to.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “What up, dawg?” I say, walking over to Turk and smacking hands with him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Ain’t nothing, playa. I see you still holding it down with the ol’ girl  and shit,” he says, as he stretches his arm out so his ice can shine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I don’t know if he is asking a question or making a statement, so I just  shoot back at him, “Yeah man, bitch ain’t going nowhere, she getting it  too good with me.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    I poke my chest out proudly. I have to make it known that I am still  holding it down on Second Street.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “So, dawg, my girl told me she be doing your hooker’s hair?” he asked in a  matter-of-fact tone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Yeah, Turk, yo people’s jive all right. She be hooking Nessa up, helping  to keep that money in my pocket, you feel me?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    By this time Nessa has walked over to us, with her hands in the air,  snapping her fingers and moving her body just a little. I ask if she’s  ready to leave. She says no, ’cause she still needs to make my money. Turk  asks me to step away for a minute. He says he has a proposition for me.[Series title: Street Chronicles];Featuring stories by Seven, The Ghost, Akbar Pray, Y. Blak Moore, and Nikki Turner; From the bestselling author of The Glamou","brand":"One World","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299965685989,"sku":"NP9780345484017","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780345484017.jpg?v=1767737743","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/tales-from-da-hood-isbn-9780345484017","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}