You gotta accept it pal. Or else you won´t last a day in the bizz. You walk in the life and there´s no turning back. From there on you´re left with two options:

Either you´re lucky enough to get to retire and enjoy your last years of life burning the cash you been raising for decades under the mattress at someone else´s expense, OR,  you have to accept that sooner or later you´re gonna get labelled for slaughter.

It takes a second. Boom. The show is over. I am sorry for being so bold about it, but, it just is what it is. No need to go around it. In the end of the day which path you take it´s gonna go down on whether you got a pair of balls or not.

I mean, do yourself a favour and take a look at today´s newspaper. They couldn´t figure out how many big shots had to check out in a body bag. It ain´t pretty pal. It never is.

But death also meant business opportunities in this thing of ours. New bosses have to be appointed. A whole lotta territory needs to be occupied. A different set of ties needs to be shaped. Tons of rackets were out there for the taking. An entire generation of new  blood had to be pumped into the ranks.

Fresh air, as some might say.

We?

Business as usual. Despite the past couple of days of fucking madness, there was still a demand on coke. Huge. And when there was one, there was also a need for a supply. That´s where we walked into. The best part was now there was virtually no competition. The well oiled machine was left untouched. When the phone rang I knew it´d be Adonis giving the go.

When I slammed the phone against the receiver I made three phone calls exactly on this order. Firstly to Charlie__Pavanno, then to DustyKid and lastly but not least Viscorio.

"Let´s make some dough fellas"