11/2/2023 0 Comments Iceberg slim pimpMindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit by John E. Talking to Strangers by Malcolm Gladwell(11177) The Great Music City by Andrea Baker(17170)īombshells: Glamour Girls of a Lifetime by Sullivan Steve(12801)Īll the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda(12132) We're Going to Need More Wine by Gabrielle Union(17687) Popular ebooks Life for Me Ain't Been No Crystal Stair by Susan Sheehan(34944)Ĭecilia Or, Memoirs of an Heiress - Volume 1 by Fanny Burney(30999)Ĭecilia Or, Memoirs of an Heiress - Volume 3 by Fanny Burney(30633)Ĭecilia Or, Memoirs of an Heiress - Volume 2 by Fanny Burney(30612) She said, “Nigger, you ain’t heard of me? I’m Red Cora” from Detroit. I said, “I don’t show my swipe to strange bitches. She said, “Let me see that pretty dick, handsome.” I wondered if he thought I oughta slug her in the jib and maybe take that shiv in the gut. Her gray eyes were whirling in her skull. I caught the glint of a pearl-handled switch-blade in her bosom. It was a livid gully from her cheekbone to the corner of her twisted mouth. She had a shiv slash on the right side of her face. The inside of her gaping cat was beef-steak red. They clustered around Patch Eye at the bar. According to his memoir, Pimp, Slim started pimping at 18 and. ![]() They started rising from the satin pillows and velour ottomans. Iceberg Slim born Robert Lee Maupin or Robert Moppins, Jr. ![]() You got the go sign to croak yourselves.” Patch Eye’s got outfits and bags of poison. Sweet said, “All right you freakish pigs. “Gloomy Sunday,” the suicide’s favorite, dirged through the room. A high-ass yellow broad flicked life back into the phonograph. I wondered what madness bubbled in his skull as he stared at her. Sweet said, “Well how did you silly bastards like the fight? Did the Nigger murder that peckerwood or did his black ass turn shit yellow?”Ī Southern white whore with a wide face and a sultry voice like Bankhead’s drawled, “Mistah Jones, Ahm happy to repoat thet the Niggah run the white stud back intu his mammy’s ass in thu fust round.”Įverybody laughed except Sweet. It was like the couch was a stage, and Sweet the star. Everybody was in a big half-circle around the couch. I saw Patch Eye go and sit behind the bar. ![]() Genres Nonfiction Biography Memoir Autobiography True Crime Crime Audiobook. It is the smells, the sounds, the fears and the petty triumphs in the world of the street pimp. I sat on a satin pillow in the corner near the glass door. Robert (Iceberg Slim) Beck's first book is told without bitterness and with no pretense at moralizing. Sweet, Top, and Peaches sat on the couch. They thumped their rear ends to the carpet. The three pimps sitting on it scattered off it like quail under a double-barreled shotgun. Peaches stood before the white velour couch and bared her fangs. He looked like a vulture decked out in a gray mohair vine. An old black stud wearing a white silk patch over his right eye trailed behind them. He looked toward the hand-painted Chinese screen.Īll eyes turned to Top and Sweet coming into the room. They roared and begged him to do it again. It was the first time for the crowd, too. I hope they fall through their own ass-holes and break their mother-fucking necks.” I hope all square bitches become syphilitic wrecks. They got green puke between their rotten toes and snot runs from their funky noses. I don't know how he spent the rest of his life besides getting a wife and children, but I sure hope that he did something worthwhile with it.I’d suck a thousand clappy pricks and swim through liquid shit. There are a few sentences where he says that he is ashamed of his criminal life, but the prideful sentences seem to outweigh them 100 times. So read this book, which is engrossing while shocking, and see if you don't think that these criminals who were the author and his friends, would not have been better off receiving the electric chair right away instead of enslaving women and funding the drug cartels for many decades. ![]() This all happened early to mid 20th century. Most of his criminal friends are either murdered or commit suicide. The rest of the book is about how he somehow enslaved young naive bitter women to pay him to be his prostitute and how this guy probably funded millions of dollars to the corrupt drug cartels of the world to feed him and his prostitutes' habits. Apparently the author cleaned up after his third stint behind bars, although he dedicates all of 1.5 pages of it in the epilogue. This guy grew up and hustled his way through a world of no morality where the weak are physically brutalized or killed, and the strong exploit the emotionally or physically weak to their advantage. This book shows you that a pimp is basically a slave owner.
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