Publisher's Synopsis
After a few years incarcerated in federal prison one would think Maurice Fulton A.K.A. (P-God) would be done with a life of crime-coming home strapped with a sweet cocaine connection and a few shooters who didn't mind shooting. He wastes no time getting to the bag. While he was gone, all he heard was how his clique was running the checkup, shaking out with all the bad chicks, and slammin' doors on them foreign cars. It was all the way lit and no question, he wanted in on the demonstration. Familiar with the old saying 'all things change' still was no excuse for what his city had become.
Once a place where hustlers, ballers, and divas were born had now become a borough full of creeps, scumbags, snitches, and recycled thots. Knowing this, P-God knew he had to secure the bag, get low, and do it quickly. This story takes place in an era when gangsters and hitterz' stuck to the 'G' code of no tellin' and your pants didn't fit you like you had a yeast infection, fellas. An era, ladies, when pocketbooks and shoes were authentic, and vixens were really vixens. Readers take a ride on the wild side of New York. Welcome to Staten Island, the 5th Borough. When people hear Staten-Island (AKA Shaolin) they tend to think of the Force M.D.'s, Wu-Tang Clan, or some C-list actors, not even close. Meet the Roc-Boyz; some fly, flashy hustlers that let their swag drip from the streets to the industry hot cars and hotter women. Was their motto, "Roc-Boyz certified street legends! Trappers not actors or rappers."
