There was a guy in my Advanced Marketing class, 11th grade, who sat behind me (back corner), didn’t do shit the entire semester (the rest of us weren’t much better, but at least we faked it). One day he comes in and his backpack is full, visibly. Odd. Like 20 minutes into class, he taps my shoulder, so I turn around. He unzips the bag, and it’s literally full of weed, bagged up. I’m like holy shit, and he says he has someone who wants it. Tells the teacher that he’s going to the bathroom, which knows he’s up to some shit and says no. Guy gets up and leaves anyway.

About 15 minutes later, guy comes back in. I turn around as he sits down, he opens the bag for me to look. Gone. All of it. This was like bigger combined volume than a dictionary. He has this smirk, and I’m just surprised; like I knew a few people who smoked, but that is an absolutely insane amount. Teacher never did anything for them leaving, which we all expected, since he was half-assing his bit, too. I should have asked him how much he made. And where the fuck he got it from initially - he’s wasn’t the type I’d expect to grow his own, the definition of brawn over brains.

I think he ‘passed’ with a D. But he was evidently very good at marketing and distribution.

In West Philadelphia, born and raised
On the playground is where I spent most of my days.
Chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin all cool,
And all shootin’ some B-ball outside of the school.

When a couple of guys who were up to no good,
Started makin’ trouble in my neighborhood.
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared,
And said “You’re movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air.”

mom was helping you.

Because cocaine is more profitable.