That night, that’s when shit got real. The police, they lined up on West Florissant. I mean a line. They had their shields, they had their armor on, the helmets, the guns. It’s women and teenagers and they screamin’, cryin’, cursin’, like “Fuck y’all—why y’all doin’ this to our kids?” So, I say “Look, we’re the men; We gotta make sure they don’t hurt these women and children.”
So, we made a line in front of all the women and children. And when the men was there, they stood down, but when we were out there with the street dudes, it wasn’t the conscious college students, it was drug dealers, killas, robbers, cutthroats, and we was all together. And we were like, “You’re not touching these kids, and we gonna all protect each other.”
I tell people all the time, “If you wasn’t here when it happened, you kinda missed out on a great opportunity.” ‘Cause on TV, it looked like a warzone, it wasn’t shit like that. That shit happened for like five minutes. It was like 98 percent family reunion, 2 percent riot. And everybody getting’ along. I seen enemies, I seen cats that I had beef with growin’ up, and they seen me, like “Bro, bro, come give me a hug.” I’m like, that’s what’s up. It only lasted about two weeks, but it still felt good while it happened.
I feel like this: You can’t get the streets together, you can’t get the killas, the dope dealers, the hustlas, the strippers, you can’t get the people in the streets to come together, you’re not a leader. ’Cause those are the people that count. Those are the people that’s lost. It’s like goin’ to the hospital. You don’t need the people that ain’t sick to be there. You need the sick. You can’t get the sick people to come together, then you’re not a leader. You’re not leadin’ no one.