Back in 2019 I used to roll with these crew called the ZT’s we were so ruthless that the whole neighborhood feared us.
So one evening I was with my small crew at the junction when three bikes pulled up, no words, just gunfire.
One of the guys shouted “opps”
I immediately took a narrow road behind a provision store at the junction, heart exploding in my chest, bullets sparked off the walls beside my head, one hit my shoulder. Hot burning pain yet I didn’t stop running, blood soaked my shirt.
That night, my opps almost ended me over stup!d turf and old beef.
Till today I still flinch at bike engines, but I’m still breathing, thats more than they wanted.