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The True Story Of Selling Heroin In New York


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True or not, it was entertaining.

And I think I might have to check out that American Gangster book Catty recommended

 

word, here are some excerpts i typed out for you guys.

 

"Face-to-face with the charming killer. if frank wasn't born black and poor, he could have been a really rich, corrupt politician. instead, he became a really rich drug dealer. but he did call his mom every day. an epic tale of the vagaries of race, class, and money in the U.S. of A, this is the basis for the ridley scott film, American Gangster, with Denzel Washington in the Frank role. As frank says, 'I always knew my life was a movie,' even if he saw himself more of the Morgan Freeman type. 'Denzel, hoever, will do.'" -from New York mag, 2000

 

thats the intro.

 

During the 1970s, when for a graffiti-splashed, early disco instant of urban time he was, according to then-U.S. District Attorney Rudolph Giuliani, "the biggest drug dealer" in Harlem, Frank Lucas would sit at the corner of 116th street and Eighth Avenue in a beat up Chevy he called Nellybelle. Then residing in a swank apartment in Riverdale down the hall from Yvonne De Carlo and running his heroin business out of a suite at the Regency Hotel on Park Avenue, Lucas owned several cars. He had a Rolls, a Mercedes, a Stingray, and a 427 four-on-the-floor muscle job he'd once topped out at 160 miles per hour near Exit 16E of the Jersey Turnpike, scaring himself so silly that he gave the car to his brother's wife just to get it out of his sight.

But for "spying," Nellybelle worked best.

"who'd ever think i'd be in a shit three hundred dollar car like that?" asks Lucas, who claims that, on a good day, he would clear up to a million dollars selling dope on 116th street. "i'd sit there, cap pulled down, with a fake beard, dark glasses, maybe some army fatigues and broken-down boots, longhair wig... I used to be right up beside the people dealing my stuff, watching the whole show, and no one knew who i was...."

......

We put it out there at four in the afternoon, when the cops changed shifts. that gave you a couple of hours to work, before those lazy bastards got down there. my buyers, though, you could set your watch by them. those junkies crawling out. by four o'clock we had enough niggers in the street to make a Tarzan movie. They had to reroute the bus coming down Eighth avenue to 116th, it couldn't get through. Call the transit deptartment to see if it's not so. On a usual day we'd put out maybe twenty-five-thousand quarters (quarter "spoons," fifty dollars' worth, enough to get high for the rest of the day). By nine o'clock i aint got a fucking gram. Everything is gone. Sold... and i got myself a million dollars."

"I'd just sit there in Nellybelle and watch the money roll in," says frank lucas of those not-so-distant but near-forgotten days, when abe beame would lay his pint sized head upon the pillow at Gracie Mansion and the cop cars were still green and black. "and no one even knew it was me. I was a shadow. A ghost.... what we call downhome a haint... that was me, the Haint of Harlem."

 

 

 

thats all im boutta put up.

theres another 30 pages of it.

i think i'm gonna reread it tho, so i might post up some more choice nuggs from it.

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applause.jpg

 

definitely enjoyed. i think i'll go with the, "true or not, it was a good read" comment people have been saying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

also, RIP BIG L

big-l.jpg

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I'm putting myself on blast here and probably shouldn't air this out on 12oz but I'm a recovering heroin addict. Heroin destroyed my life and I'm slowly but surely pulling myself away from that miserable lifestyle. I was strung out on the shit within a week of my first taste. Kicking is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I've done it many times, thinking how stupid I was cause every time you promise yourself you wont ever put yourself or your family through that shit again......and you always go back, and it gets worse and worse every time.

 

 

Fuck heroin. Stay away from that shit like the plague. And don't fuck with anyone who uses. I know its cliche......but whatever.

 

anyone that would clown someone for coming off heroin or any major drug is a fucking retard.

 

stay up nigga.

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not to pry...but anyone want to share any heroin stories?

 

ive done my fair share of shit, but i've never done heroin...

 

a guy I know once said "it is like kissing god"

 

I have always been a stoner and loved my weed and taking heroin was on a whole another level, it just felt fucking amazing like nothing I had tried before, but it then essentially turns into find money get high, start itching for more, find money get high repeat over while the amount of money and heroin you need increases - it is pretty fucking shit in the long run, not worth trying

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