Reborn Scumbag: Jizzing to the Top of the Music Empire and Hollywood Chapter 87 85: Little Brother P. Diddy

No Arican is unfamiliar with the na "Latin Kings," especially those living in the slums.

These xicans frequently appear on television.

They were the first hogrown gang in the new millennium to be jointly cracked down on by the FBI, Immigration and Customs Enforcent (ICE), and Holand Security Investigations (HSI).

This gang was founded by Hispanic immigrants in Chicago in the 1950s and is now an organized cri syndicate spread across the United States.

Unlike the petty Black hooligans, they have serious businesses to support themselves.

Every year, tens of thousands of tons of various drugs flow into the US through the southern border, and a third of them are destined for Chicago.

The Latin Kings play a monuntal role in this.

After thinking for a mont, Leon felt this would be a once-and-for-all solution.

When violence ets greater violence, it becos weak.

"Are these people reliable?"

"Don't worry, they will respect you like Don Vito Corleone."

Looking at Aisha's mysterious smile, Leon inexplicably felt a sense of relief.

Early the next morning, a group of burly xican n appeared outside the hotel as expected. Seeing this scene, the hotel guests hurriedly detoured in fear.

They uniformly sported xican-style handlebar mustaches, their slicked-back hair ticulously grood with gel.

Even in the cold weather of late November, the tattoos on their necks could be glimpsed through their thick leather jackets.

A skull with a five-diamond crown was their emblem, and the four letters ALKN stood for the Almighty Latin King Nation.

They were as well-trained as soldiers, lining up to wait for Aisha's instructions.

When Leon saw this scene, he was also quite shocked inside.

These vicious gang mbers were as obedient as pets in front of Aisha.

"You're here, Boss." Aisha pointed at Leon and said to the group of gang mbers, "This is my boss Leon... now he is also your boss."

"I don't need to repeat what to do next, do I?"

"Victor, manage your n well. Absolutely no shooting without Leon's instructions!"

The leading xican man touched his mustache, stepped out of the queue, and ca to Leon's side.

While grinning, he extended his right hand. "Now, you are our El Leon."

In xican culture, "El" is similar to "Don" in the Italian Mafia; it can only be placed before the na of a respected person.

Being addressed with such an honorific, Leon understood that the relationship between Aisha and this group of gangsters might not be purely financial.

To buy off this group of xicans, he only spent $30,000.

To make this group of "wild creatures" who dared to exchange fire with law enforcent officers so respectful, this small amount of money probably couldn't do it.

A group of about ten people squeezed into the business van Aisha had rented beforehand and drove to the negotiation location.

Inglewood, adjacent to Compton, was also one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Los Angeles.

In the 1990s, a local Black drug dealer completed a great invention in criminal history.

By dissolving and crystallizing cocaine into "crack," which was faster to addict and lower in cost, it quickly swept across the United States.

Choosing the negotiation location here already showed that Diddy had ulterior motives.

Since he didn't get along with the West Coast, the negotiation location naturally couldn't be chosen in Compton, which was full of Crips.

Inglewood, equally dangerous and full of gang thugs, beca the optimal solution.

He wanted to use this to intimidate Leon in terms of montum first.

The business van stopped in front of a large record store in Inglewood.

Leon got out of the car surrounded by a group of xicans, instantly attracting the attention of the entire street.

Those Black hooligans with their pants sagging halfway down their butts dared not even look directly at Leon; everyone knew this group ca with bad intentions.

When the group sward into the record store, Diddy, who was crossing his legs and enjoying Justin Bieber's MV, was suddenly stunned.

Just as Leon had thought before, the record store was crowded with Black gang mbers.

They covered their faces with bandanas symbolizing their gangs...

Generally speaking, gang mbers would only do this when carrying out criminal activities.

The eyes of both sides clashed everywhere, and the atmosphere fell into a strange awkwardness.

It was Diddy who broke the awkwardness first. As a rap godfather who beca famous in the 90s and the boss of Bad Boy Records, he had seen too many scenes more complicated than this.

He patted Chris on the shoulder beside him, signaling him not to panic.

Everything would be settled by Daddy!

He amicably offered a cigar. "Sit down, kid. Long ti no see."

"Did you have fun at my party last ti?"

Leon stopped pretending altogether, ignored Diddy's gesture of offering a smoke, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Diddy smiled awkwardly: "You seem very unfriendly, kid. Chris ca with sincerity today."

"Sincerity? If I fired two shots at that ngga, I could also be very sincere."

Seeing this, Chris beside him couldn't sit still.

He stood up and pointed at Leon, cursing: "Motherfxxker! The one talking to you is P. Diddy!"

With backing, Chris was like a dog led by its owner, unscrupulous.

Leon didn't retort imdiately but lowered his head and coughed twice.

Behind him, Victor imdiately took a step forward after receiving the instruction, walked up to Chris, narrowed his eyes, and stared at him intently.

Just one look made Chris's hair stand on end.

His inner monologue was: Just looking at this xican's eyes, I'd believe it if you said he killed people...

After glancing at Diddy beside him, he suppressed his fear and said, "What do you want to do... Motherfxxker, this is our territory."

As soon as the words fell, the room full of Black gang mbers gathered around in unison.

Despite being outnumbered, Victor didn't retreat a step.

He narrowed his eyes, stared at the nggas in front of him, and spat out a word in a low voice: "Try."

The scene fell into a dead silence.

At this ti, Leon unscrupulously put his feet on the desk of the record store, lit a cigarette, and began to puff.

From now on, the diation between the two sides could truly be called fair.

Diddy's more than twenty years of street wisdom told him that this group of xicans was not to be trifled with.

He pressed his hands down and said to everyone: "Easy... Easy... everyone is family."

"Leon, you were personally signed by Jay-Z... Your achievents today rely entirely on Jay-Z."

"I've known Jay-Z for more than twenty years."

"We are family, it shouldn't have co to this point, right?"

Leon smiled, knocked on the table, pointed at Chris, and said, "This idiot has been opposing for so unknown reason. I've given him many chances."

The beef between the two had lasted for a while.

And the initial cause of this conflict was rely because Leon stole Chris's thunder at a comrcial performance.

"Fxxk! What stupid things are you saying? You gave chances?"

Leon spread his hands. "Yes, you should thank the civilized society of Arica for saving you."

"Ridiculous, do you really think of yourself as a big shot on the street? You think..." Chris swallowed the rest of his words abruptly.

Victor had already placed his hand on his waist. This was the wind-up for the "Arican Iaijutsu" (quick draw) skill.

Chris swallowed hard. "You damn xican... dare to pull your gun and try? Do you know who I am..."

Victor looked back at Leon. "Mr. Leon?"

Leon nodded with a smile in response. This was the permission switch for violence.

Victor pulled out a Glock 18 pistol from his waist.

Extended magazine, gold finish...

Obviously, this was a heavily modified pistol equipped with an auto sear.

It could pour out a barrage of bullets at a rate as high as 1200 rounds per minute, comparable to an automatic weapon.

Safety off.

Click-clack. Loaded. The whole process took less than a second.

By the ti Chris reacted, the cold muzzle was already pressed against his head.

He stared wide-eyed like a monkey under a petrification spell, his mind blank.

The Black gunn beside Diddy were stunned for two seconds, then flusteredly pulled out pistols from their crotches.

A scene from GTA was on the verge of erupting.

From the beginning until now, Diddy had been looking down and playing with that rare NBA championship ring on his hand.

The 1970 New York Knicks championship ring.

As a big brother, he didn't believe any violent conflict could happen under his nose.

Only now that the scene was completely out of control did he roar: "Stop it, all of you motherfxxkers!"

"WTF... Leon, are you crazy? Look how many nggas are in the room... Sitting down and talking properly is the best for you."

Even in this situation, P. Diddy didn't forget to threaten.

Comparing the number of xicans and Black people in the room, obviously, there was no advantage.

While puffing smoke, Leon lowered his voice to issue a final warning, "Even ten thousand lambs cannot kill a lion... am I right, Victor?"

"You are very right, Mr. Leon." Victor responded in a deep voice, the muzzle always pressed against Chris's head.

P. Diddy completely didn't anticipate things would develop to this extent. This fledging white kid actually chose to solve the problem in the most street way.

Until he saw the looming crown tattoo on Victor's neck, only then did he understand why these xicans were so aggressive.

"Latin Kings?" P. Diddy's expression instantly changed from horror to calm. "Listen, Bro... I dealt with you guys back in the 90s..."

"How is El Vega? Does he still live in San Diego?"

Diddy's enthusiasm was t with Victor's cold reply: "Vega has been dead for a long ti. He was shot dead on the roadside like a wild dog."

"There is no El Vega here, only Mr. El Leon."

"What..."

Seeing that the other party didn't buy his act of bringing up acquaintances, P. Diddy panicked.

Especially after hearing the title "El Leon."

mbers of the Latin Kings are among the most brutal of Arican hogrown gangs. Going to prison is no big deal to them.

They have ford a criminal system spread across prisons all over the US. Going to prison is as warm as going ho.

Aisha, who had been waiting outside the door, suddenly pushed open the door and walked in.

She looked down at her watch. "Hasn't the matter been resolved yet?"

As soon as the words fell, Victor's right hand holding the gun suddenly exerted force. Chris almost collapsed on the ground.

He could even feel the trigger shifting slightly; life and death were just a mont away.

Even with P. Diddy backing him, his psychological defense finally collapsed.

"Fxxk... Bro, this matter is my fault. It was my fault from the beginning!"

Leon said to Diddy, "Did you hear that?"

P. Diddy remained silent. Chris could lower his head, but as a big brother, he couldn't lower his head easily.

He turned to look at the Black gunn beside him and found their eyes were dodging.

Obviously, these young nggas didn't want to die yet and didn't have the courage to confront these desperadoes of the Latin Kings head-on.

"Diddy... I ask you again... did you hear clearly what Chris just said?"

"You are his big brother... I must get a guarantee from you that the sa thing won't happen again!"

Just as Leon finished speaking here, Aisha signaled all Latin Kings mbers to take two steps forward with her eyes.

Under such strong oppression, P. Diddy finally couldn't withstand the pressure and said, "I understand, this is all Chris's problem..."

"I guarantee this series of events ends here, on my reputation."

Receiving this promise, Leon finally revealed a satisfied smile. "Good."

"Music is a business... Whether Tupac or Biggie, their matters happened in the nineties. That's already in the past."

Diddy showed a shocked expression. The white kid in front of him was actually warning him...

According to various exposed materials, the deaths of both Tupac and Biggie were inextricably linked to P. Diddy.

Leon's implied aning was: Don't think about using the thods you used on Tupac against !

"Alright, I think I have to go."

"There's still a heap of things waiting for to handle in New York. The plane takes off in three hours."

After speaking, Leon turned to leave.

Just as the door of the record store opened a crack, he suddenly turned his head and said, "By the way, Chris, I have another gift for you... Diddy, can you step aside for a mont?"

"Gift?"

Chris's heart, which had just settled down, instantly jumped back into his throat. Diddy also tactfully moved two body lengths away.

"Yes, to be precise, two small gifts."

After speaking, Leon nodded to Victor.

The other party understood imdiately. As arranged beforehand, he pulled out another pistol from his waist.

Holding the gun in his left hand, he fired two shots consecutively in Chris's direction.

Bang bang—

The bullets grazed Chris's ear, leaving two bullet holes in the poster on the wall behind him.

That poster was the promotional poster for P. Diddy's 1997 debut album No Way Out.

The sudden gunshots made Chris instinctively bend down and scramble under the table in panic.

P. Diddy looked terrified. "WTF? Are you crazy, kid? Wasn't the matter already resolved?"

Leon explained: "Did you watch the video Chris posted on Twitter? Although the sound was removed, you must know that he fired a gun yesterday..."

"From now on, this matter is truly even."

An hour after the negotiation ended, Leon appeared at LAX with the people from Apocalypse Music, ready to return to New York.

After this incident, Phil never dared to speculate wildly about whether the tattoo on Aisha's lower abdon was a womb tattoo or not.

The real side of this woman was even harder to provoke than her tattoo-covered appearance.

Inside the VIP lounge, Leon opened Twitter.

As expected, Chris had deleted all tweets about him.

The content of his latest tweet was "peace & love."

Fans comnting below interpreted this one after another as a signal that the relationship between Chris and "Street Jesus" had thawed.

Seeing this, Leon smiled with relief. Indeed, persona is life for a rapper.

Leaving a ssage of peace and love was the optimal solution for Chris to show weakness while saving face to the greatest extent.