Chalk this up to irony, but getting money in this time was not nearly as difficult as figuring out what to do with it all. You can only hide the money in so many places, and lacking a Wharton degree in money laundering, like so many on Wall Street, it wasn’t always easy to figure out what to physically do with so much cash. I was the definition of new money. I tried my best not to go through my money like I was allergic to it. I did the best I could with a little guidance. Inevitably I spent, in part, because I thought the money was never going to end and partially because of the inevitable words of ignorance– why not? It was that time again. Spring 1987 was my unofficial second year in the game in Harlem. While I may have thought I was doing it the prior year, by this time, I had it worked out; the year before, I was getting my feet wet. Red and I were running around, and now, a year later, I was fully immersed in The Game. I had been getting plenty of money and my reputation as one of the who’s who on the circuit was cemented. My name was ringing bells. Much love @mr_camron @rsvpmase @fatjoe @vado_mh @daveeast @foxybrown @llcoolj for keeping my name relevant in hip hop culture
Excerpt – The Crack Era – The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of Kevin Chiles
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