Tariq Anderson, Jr.
"Motion without movement,
a ship without the ocean.
I wonder where I am in spirit,
I really am within.
Then again I'm lost in reality without a stratagy,
Using words with a sound,
feeling tied but
Living in without the fire,
is this truth or am I a lier.
What is my true desire,
I'll know one
day I may retire.
so until the day that I expire,
success will surround me like the walls of a mighty tower ."
Walter Tariq Anderson, Jr.
book is dedicated to my children
Christopher Darnell Walker
Daquan Romeer Anderson
Jaquetta Doris Tysheka
“I love you all from the bottom of my heart.”
to Buffalo, New York after traveling to Nashville ten a key, and then to Cleveland, Ohio. Where I successfully completed
a 28 day rehab. When the Greyhound pulled into the station I had no idea where I was going, but I was glad to be in Buffalo.
I hid my
luggage behind a church next to the bus station, and then headed uptown towards South Boulevard. I needed to see my partner
who lived in an apartment high rise off the Boulevard, but I hadn’t seen him in almost a year.
was Bowtie Muhammad, and he was a true friend from the day we first met. As I neared the high rise I noticed his tall image
standing on the 8th floor balcony.
had a brown complexion, always well groomed, stood at six foot eight, and always wore tailored suits, Stacy Adams shoes, and
you guessed it a bowtie. He was a Muslim who followed the teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad, and fully supported
the Nation of Islam.
was also partly handicap due to his unusual size at birth which caused complications that injured his left arm & shoulder,
but he never let that get in the way of anything that he believed in or put his mind to. As I neared the front entrance I
called out his name, and to my surprise he already knew who I was by my walk.
each other with the universal greeting of As-Salaamu alaikum, and then we embraced like brothers. I went on to tell Muhammad
my situation, and without any hesitation he welcomed me into his home.
moment on we became a team that hustled, conned, panhandled and even stole together, because we shared something in common.
We were both addicts, and we had to make it happen by any means necessary.
soldiers on the street of Buffalo, and we watched each other’s back because we dealt with the homeless & people
of the night out there who wouldn’t waste anytime killing us if we had the right amount of money or the right amount
of 2006 I met a young crack dealer named Goldie because of his gold fronts, but I referred to the young brother as Pimp juice.
It was him who believed in me enough to put me to work selling crack, and not only did he put me down but he also gave me
the new rules to the game.
started selling crack, and everyday after 6pm inside the high rise I went to work because that was when the business office
closed for the day. Before long I had two floors on lock, and a small complex next to the high rise.
not very proud to say that most of my customers were elderly residents, and my good friend Muhammad was also one of my best
customers. I was still getting high myself, but I had enough dope to fuck up and still be able to re-up the next day.
Pimp juice taught me to always put my re-up money aside, because you never know when or if you might feel like getting high.
So I did, and he kept blessing me with ounces of that hard white rock that had fiends coming in cabs from across town.
On my 37th birthday Pimp juice and I snorted an 8 ball of cocaine,
and drank about a half a gallon of Paul Masson. Even though we were skied out of our minds and half drunk we were still on
point, and making money all night long.
long I met a young female hustler who I moved in with Muhammad and I, and soon I found out that she was bi-sexual and the
butch she was with was mad jealous so I cut her back. I ended meeting an older woman who was fifty years old, but she didn’t
look her age at all. Her name was Tawanna, and she came from a family of Sunni Muslims.
acquainted with her because she purchased a lot of crack from me, so within a few weeks I started admiring how well she carried
herself. So one day I decided to knocked on her door, and of course she was happy to see the neighborhood dope boy so she
let me come in.
asked me if I had any work I said yes but refused her money, and gave her a gram for herself. That night she put some of that
good ole fashion country pussy on me, and before I knew it I had moved into her apartment.
me with clothes, jewels and leather coats so I made sure that she had plenty of crack. When I would chop my
rocks up I always broke her off first, but the more I gave her the greedier she became.
© 2009 by Walter Tariq Anderson, Jr.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
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Coming in the fall of 2010!