“New York you was scared to death, yo,” Shorty joked.
“Man, that shit was crazy. These cops ain’t playin’ fair out here, huh?” Tone commented.
“Welcome to Baltimore,” she exclaimed.
Tone’s story may have begun in New York, but it was about to unfold in Baltimore.
6
Tone was so immersed in the streets of Baltimore that he seemed to lose track of time. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. This time period was more so a feeling out process to make sure that he and Shorty could work with each other. The vast amounts of money they began to make together assured him they could. Slowly but surely Tone grinded away and began to build a name for himself in the streets of East Baltimore. Piece by piece he started to assemble his own drug organization, the pitchers, lookouts and runners. All at his disposal. It started off with just him and Shorty. Whenever the mood struck him, Stew would get down too. Eventually, he bought his younger cousin Mann down from New York since he was running wild and getting into trouble in the city. Tone felt like since he was risking his freedom for nothing, he might as well make some money off his recklessness. But besides that, Tone needed someone around him he could trust, unconditionally, and Mann was that person. He felt whom better to trust than family.
Once the proceeds from the drug sales began to come in, Tone was able to hire more help. This came in the form of local, young, hungry dudes from the neighborhood, native Baltimoreans. He knew this strategy would pay dividends moving forward. Tone did this deliberately to avoid the animosities and rivalries that an all New York drug crew might incur.
Long before Tone arrived in Baltimore, the rivalry between hustlers from New York and Baltimore had been perpetuated for years. Blood had been spilt and murders had been committed to strengthen each side’s stranglehold on the drug trade. Tone hadn’t done anything to fan those deadly flames. He merely inherited a lot of animosity because of where he was from, not because of anything he had done. Tone was a different kind of New Yorker, he heeded Shorty’s words and chose to blend in. He was well aware of the anti-New York sentiment in certain sections of Baltimore. He made it a point to steer clear of those places, not because he was afraid, it was because feuding with someone over a drug block was pointless. Beef was a broke man’s sport that Tone would rather not indulge in. He’d rather stay right in East Baltimore, where the streets had accepted him and the neighborhood had embraced him. Where he could flourish in relative anonymity.
In Baltimore, hustlers from New York were notorious for taking over neighborhoods and everything it had to offer and never giving anything back. Tone decided to make himself the exact opposite of everything that the streets were accustomed to when dealing with a New Yorker. He played fair and gave everyone their just due. If he ever did anything to someone, then they had it coming.
Man, fuck them New York boyz yo, Junkies often said to Tone. No disrespect Tone, you the only New Yorker I fuck wit. You ain’t like them other petty muthafuckas yo. You show love out here in these streets.
Early on, Tone used strategic moves to defuse the anti-New Yorker sentiment. Whether it was by occasionally accepting short money from junkies or looking out for kids in the neighborhood by buying them new tennis shoes when their old one’s wore out. He gave money to struggling single mothers who might be behind on a bill. These random acts of kindness deflected any distrust or misplaced reservations that anyone may have had about him. As a result, the community began to embrace him, overlooking the fact that he was a part of the drug problem that was ravaging the neighborhood.
Despite his best intentions, Tone’s drug operation didn’t get off the ground without a hitch. He struggled to keep a consistent flow of drugs. As quickly as he would get his drugs from New York, the quicker he would sell out. He couldn’t maintain a big enough or constant supply of drugs. Because of this incontinency, he lost a few customers and a few workers too. Only the loyal ones remained as he worked out the kinks. In reality, Tone was running a nickel and dime drug operation, trying to find his footing in the drug trade in Baltimore. He was forming the cornerstones of what would some day be a drug empire.
No matter how good the quality of his cocaine was, Tone’s unpredictability, accompanied with lack of sufficient weight, kept him cornering the drug market in the area. He was forced to rethink his game plan as a result, in an attempt to solve his problem. His thoughts turned to older, more established hustlers from his hood that he knew, maybe form some kind of partnership with them and really flood the streets of East Baltimore with coke. He quickly scratched that idea, fearing that they would take over his entire drug operation and leave him out in the cold once they saw all the money there was to be made.
Reluctantly, he sent his cousin Mann up to New York a time or two in an attempt to find a coke connection. But those trips yielded nothing.
Tone remained on the path of inconsistency until he made a bold move of returning to New York himself. It was in Manhattan, Washington Heights, that Tone finally met the solid cocaine supplier that he needed. After constantly copping weight on a weekly basis, his Dominican coke connection saw the value in Tone as a customer, and began giving him cocaine on consignment. Whatever amount of weight Tone bought, he matched. Once he found a reliable cocaine connection, things really took
