Three things you need when you scrappin. Speed, technique, and callous. Stupid motherfuckers will say, “Strength,” first cause they stupid. They think that’s all that matters. To be honest though, I love them easy motherfuckers the best haha I got allll day for them fuckers.
Matter fact if you have any two of them things in combination, you’re still gonna come out on top most of the time. You could be pregnant, busted up, shit, you could be a kid and still come out on top if you use even two of those right but in the end, all three is what keeps you in the Brigade.
First up, Speed. You gotta practice bein quick. Quick thinkin, quick on your feet, quick with your hands, quick with them eyes. Clock everything in a second, gotta have eyes in the back of your head. Where they weapons at? They lefties, righties? What I got I can use? Shit, you better not be too stupid to run neither, if that’s the best option. Speed in that sense. Read em quick. Read the intentions. You know why bitches die every day at the hands of males? Because they ain’t wanna be rude. They ain’t wanna be mean. They ain’t wanna believe some motherfucker got bad shit in store. Me, I say fuck that. Soon as I clock em, I’m scrappin. If they get fucked up or die, that’s fine by me. Fuck em up first, ask questions later. There’ll be a later for you.
Y’know I met some nigga at some birthday party. He was a clown doin balloon animals and shit for the kids but he did a little magic too. Card tricks and scarves comin out his ears. Kids loved that shit, laughing and bug-eyed. Y’know what I thought? I thought that shit looked useful. I caught him after on his smoke break, sweatin in his red wig and fuckin big-ass shoes and I told him to show me. You ain’t even gotta move that fast if you use tricks like that, usin the angle of your hand to hide a knife, a pen, a fork, whatever you got. I liked that. I got a sharpened spoon or quarter in my hair, in my pocket, somewhere, always. They ain’t never even see it.
That’s a kind of Technique too. Best technique is mixing all you know together. Learn as much shit as you can, even basic shit but mix it all up. Magic tricks, self defense, fuckin Tae Kwon Do, or whatever. Learn you up as much as you can and then put it together with whatever you got. See most technique things still got rules. The rule underneath it all is: Don’t Use This to Kill Nobody. Well, fuck that rule. When you pick up technique, it’s to fuck a nigga up. Bad. Watch fights, watch YouTube, read books on fighting styles then practice. Drill. Drill. Aim for your shadow on the wall, a tree, a mailbox, sack of potatoes, whatever. Drill. You make it second nature. You build muscle memory. Drill until you ain’t gotta think about. Drill. Do it a thousand times then do it again. Aim for shit that counts: eyes, neck, dick, stomach. If you miss they eye but cut their head, they’ll bleed and bleed. It’ll fuck up their vision, go again. Whatever dirty trick you gotta do, do it. This ain’t about honor or code. It’s a wild animal comin for your fuckin neck. You gonna try and pry their jaws off you? Nah, fuckin put your finger in they eye. Get em off you and get the fuck out.
Brings us to Callous. The reason drillin is so important is cause you don’t just learn to move without thinking but cause shit goes wrong. You mis-time shit, your aim ain’t good, worse off when shit really goes down, you freeze up. Something ain’t work out and you’re still in it, you panic. They cuttin your air off, they take the wind out of you. One good crack on the side of the head, the chin, slows you down, disorients you. That’s why you gotta drill. That’s why you need to callous up. Brigade recruits been knocked around. Black eyes, busted lips, cut heads. They been scraped up, thrown around, their hair pulled out. You gotta be able to take some of that. Teaches you instinctively when to block. Shows you your limits. Helps you read em too. If they got you, and you down, you know what’s comin next, you can come back. Shit ain’t like the movies where they can hit you on the head once and you out for 20, 30 minutes. They don’t know that. Fake it. Use it. If they clock you good, maybe go down. Stay down. You know they gonna come closer. If they hands is around your neck and you pass out, you’ll only be out 30 seconds, maybe a minute unless they keep pressin but they ain’t know that. You go heavy, palm your blade, and that’s they eye. That’s they neck. Your arms, your back, your shins, shit even your head can take a lot but it can take more if you train it. Callous.
Nice when recruits roll up in here with some technique they can share. I picked up some shit from a recruit, Natasha. She was a blue belt in Brazilian jiu jitsu. Some asshole, calls hisself a body builder rolls up into the gym when it’s reserved for the fuckin jitsu class. He all loud and pushy and shit, gettin in everybody way, talkin bout, “What are you gonna do about it?” Her teacher is calm, see. Disciplined. He tells the guy if you can take my girl Natasha here, we’ll clear out. Ha ha! That dumbass motherfucker fall straight for it. Natasha a skinny ass white girl, she 110 pounds maybe? Hair in a raggedy ass ponytail and shit. This motherfucker probably 210, 220? He take off his shirt, flexin and shit, talkin bout, “I’m not gonna go easy on your cause you’re a girl. I don’t give a fuck if I put you in the hospital.” Motherfucker said that! These fuckin males tell on theyselves every time. She put him to sleep so quick ha ha ha! When he come out of it he ain’t even know what’s goin on, tries to go back for her like he still fightin, lookin like he drunk. Them’s the shits I love cuttin up. They egos is so big, they tryna fight bein choked out ha ha ha could be fucked up on H, they so slow and shit. Wouldn’t you know that motherfucker was waiting out in the parking lot for her afterwards. Followed her to the gas station in a big ass, little dick truck like she wouldn’t clock him.
That’s where she met me, in the nasty ass bathroom. She was scared as fuck, fumblin with her phone to call 911, and shit. He had the door down in two kicks. When he swiped at me, I ducked and went right for his dick. One jab through his fuckin basketball shorts, aim one for his eye. I grabbed Natasha hand and we motherfuckin bounced.
Natasha had a lot of skin in with that gym, they ain’t just hand out them belts but it wasn’t technique that was her problem, it was callous. She’s still thinkin about the rules outside in the real world. You use them fancy skills to hurt somebody, some male, you get sued, you get put away; whole future is fucked. She ain’t wrong about that. Law will lock a bitch up over anything but you beat a woman half to death and ain’t nobody do shit. Most law enforcement are males, shit, doctors, judges too. She ain’t scared she can’t take a motherfucker down, she already done that. She got scared she would get locked up, shot, some bullshit.
She ain’t joined the Brigade, she got too many things, good things, she can’t up and leave but she come to teach us some, show us drills, how to get out from under some shithead, break they hold on your neck, that shit.
Haha oh, him? We call him ‘Bob the Body Builder’ haha. Get this. He got shipped to the hospital for surgery on his ball bag and got 8 stitches in his fuckin eyebrow. Would’ve been nice if he’d lost an eye and bled out but like I said, sometimes you fuckin miss. They patched his ass up in time. Late night when he’s asleep, we had ourselves a little visit. Pair of scrubs from Goodwill, badge off someone too tired to notice. Bobby the Body Builder got a severe peanut allergy - ‘anaphylaxis’ says his chart. Well, wouldn’t you know. I seen some Reese’s cups in the vending machine just down the hall…