When we were last with Gerald in New Orleans, he was serving some time in prison.

Two things I never do–rat, turn myself out.

Everybody wanna be out there mobbed up, deed up. But nobody wanna take the brick when it’s time to go behind the wall. Nobody wanna take the charge.

Why be in the street like you wanna be a hustler and now you wanna turn and be a rat? You know what the consequence is. Didn’t anybody force you to sell.

I’m about to put you on something. You ever see the guys come to court in Virginia wearing black and white? Well you’re gonna be familiar with it now.

If they ever come to court, and they come in black and white, they a rat. It’s like an old prison jailhouse outfit, how a prisoner was back in the old days. Like old movies. That’s only for rats wear them uniforms. 

You might be in Oklahoma. You might see some guys indicted from Virginia. With them on, you know what they doing. That’s how Virginians dress their rats.

And you might don’t believe it, but you get to they lawyer and you talk to him, and what he tell you? “Cause they snitches.”

I didn’t know it till years later when I went into the Feds, till I got into the judicial court and I seen them do it. 

I said, “Man, what the fuck he got on?”

When he come around, they say, “Hi, Bitch!”

I say, “What you call him that for?”

Someone else say, “They high.”

But then we seen one of the big boys that used to fuck with our man. And he say, “That bitch still a rat.”

Everybody do it from the pressure. 

You got some of the best that say, “I can go to prison and wouldn’t rat.” But you get to see them 100, 200 years, you come to the table.

And the Feds’ll work you if you don’t watch it. Them jokers feed you good. They buy you cigarettes. 

They got a place they call CTF up in the D.C. jail. That’s where rats go. You never want to go on the third floor. That’s the snitch floor. My co-dee here in D.C. was telling me about it.

They try to work me but I was a street guy, already made. They come across the catwalk 2 o’clock in the morning trying to move me over there. The man came, saying “Yo, Anderson, grab your stuff, we gotta be moving!”

I said, “Where we going?”


My roommate said, “Man, he trying to move you.”

“What floor??”

“Third floor.”

I bucked. “I bucked” mean I refused to go. I said, “Uh uh”.

So they telling me, “You want to go to the hole?”

I said, “I don’t give a fuck where I go. I’m not going over there.”

He said, “You either go there, or you go to the hole.”

I chose the hole.

When I said, “the hole”, the major said, “Nah, that was wrong, you ain’t gotta go, somebody got that spot.”

They were trying to see if I would go work for the Feds. You get put in, that’s when you know they separating you from your codefendants.

I can handle all kinda things, but I’m not gonna say I’m built for prison. It’s just… my blood. I come through as a young boy, coming up around some good killers, big boys, big dope dealers. I was around some strong bloodlines.

Issues |Health, Mental

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