TUPAC'S DAUGHTER | DAVE EAST

|CHAPTER TWELVE|

*DAVE'S POV*
"And you're one hundred percent positive that THIS is his house?"

Shooter questioned me once again as the two of us pulled up to the house who claimed to be Marshall's.

"Yeah, nigga. That's what CJ said. Now here's what we gon do —"

"Oh, shit. Do David Brewster plans EVER end well?"

"Just listen! We gon put these masks on so he can't tell who it is, we gon go in there, whoop his ass to teach him a lesson, then run outta that mufucka. We can't tell him why we there or how we found him, it's just Finna make it obvious who it is."

"I mean, if you say so. We carrying our guns in this bitch or nah?"

"Just in case if he tries to start some slick shit. But it ain't on the agenda to murk his ass."

"Ion see why we can't just leave this shit alone, Dave. He ain't even with Tylee anymore, the shit is over and done with."

"Not in my book, it ain't. Only bitch ass niggas put their hands on females. And NO nigga ain't Finna put their hands on MINE. Whether it was before or after me."

And I highly stand on that statement forever.

Shooter looked at me as if I were crazy, but put the mask over his face anyways.

"I swear nigga if we get caught up and get locked up, that's on your ass. Imma have to fuck you up after we get out."

"We ain't gon get caught. The police ain't out around here at this time of night anyways. Unless they need to be, that is."

I then proceeded to put the mask over my face, getting out of the car with Shooter following behind me.

Shooter was the one who busted his window through, giving us access to get into Marshall's crib.

And let me tell you; that had to be the most disgusting house I have ever seen inside.

It looked like he hadn't cleaned it in weeks, maybe MONTHS.

Almost like it was a house of a drug addict. That's how filthy it looked.

The smell of it? Almost like this Nigga had dead bodies on bodies in that bitch.

Left niggas speechless at how disgusting it was.

"You sure you wanna be up in here? What if this nigga has some bodies up in here of his damn own? That's what this shit smelling like right now."

Shooter said, clearly growing concerned.

Suddenly, we heard some creaking coming from upstairs.

So he was upstairs.

Footsteps started coming down the stairs, so Shooter and I started to quietly panic.

We spotted a closet to hurry and hide in, so that's what we did.

"Who the fuck is up in my house and why?!"