As Big Samson swerves the car from lane to lane with urgency, you cling to the rim of the car bed.
You hear him bark over the roar of the wind.
^We’re closin’ in on his location niggas. Buck up.
You enter a panicked frenzy. You’re about to be in a fucking direct fucking confrontation with the fucking cops, an actual driveby shootout. You’d only ever seen them in your heckin’ Tarantino movies. You can’t even imagine being in a situation where you could die. For real. From g*ns.
You wrack your brain on what to do. It really seems hopeless. All you can do is just lay down and pray to Science you don’t die.
But abruptly, a thought flits through your mind.
You think about all the black kings that died valiantly fighting the fascist pigs that hate them for the color of their skin.
You think about the badass punks in Antifa that blow nazi chuds’ brains out.
And most of all, you think of the black queens. The Afro-American goddesses that have to face hardship and woe every day in AmeriKKKa, with no one to man up and pay their child support.
You take a deep breath.
Your hands stop quaking.
With newfound determination you stand up, braving the storm, and turn to face Jamal and Big Samson.
I need to be strong… to fight for black queens across the world…
Jamal, please give me a gun.
shiet aight
Imma be real I aint fightin for no black bitches tho
^Facts brotha
White bitches tho?
Shiiii
^Shiiiiii
<Shiiiiiii
but you do you mane
Sides, i though you hated guns n’ shi.
Well… I do. But sometimes, you have to use the hostile mechanisms of the enemy to deconstruct oppressive systems.
uhhhhhhhhhhh
fax mane.
<YEAH NIGGA! FUCK THA SYSTEM!
Lil Doorknob turns to you amiably.
<Here man. I got some extra.
He pulls an AK 47 from his pants and puts it in your hands. How are they fitting all this stuff in there??

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