“I’m sipping for you, baby. May the name G-Money live forever, and young hustlers who are hoping off the porch tell the stories of you to their homies. May they be mind blown that a TRUE hustler like you existed and died a living legend. May they brag on how much you loved me so much. Give those hustler’s girlfriend some relationships goals. May our love be spoken upon forever and a day. In the name of G-Money, cheers!” Raising the bottle in midair, I toasted with myself swallowing the rest of the cold liquor. It didn’t bother me at all; the Patron raced down my throat like cold Fiji water. Knowing that I didn’t have much food to eat, I still opened the fridge to finding something to grub on. I slightly opened the box of pizza that was three days old, but quickly stopped the thought of eating it. The cold cheese and pepperonis reminded of a science experiment waiting to go bad! I could only imagine what the old pizza would do to my innocent stomach. For a while I stood with the icebox open, just thinking. I wanted Grand to be standing behind me badly, so badly that I could fell his dreadlocks rubbing against the back of my neck and back.