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Accepting that Nikia had robbed him, Lamar attempted to call her phone but she had it disconnected. Lamar instructed Amilli to take him to his home in Princeton, New Jersey. He found that Nikia had destroyed that home, too, and bleached all of his clothing and furniture. She had even torched his Q45 he’d bought for her. At this point, no one could stop him from killing her, not even Celebrity. He found his money stash and tossed the cash into trash bags, before throwing them into the car’s trunk.
On the ride back to Philadelphia, Lamar called a team meeting because things were out of control: Nikia took drugs, money, destroyed assets, and she had to die. Lamar took the trash bags full of money to Amilli’s apartment until he found a safe place for them.
Driving to the apartment to meet the crew, he called Oz to put him up on what was going on. He informed him that he would pay him out of his own pocket for the missing drugs. Lamar’s ticket came to a little over four hundred thousand, but Oz asked him to only cough up half. Customer loyalty discount, Oz had called it.
Twenty minutes later, Lamar was in the trap house and explained to his crew what he had discovered in Northeast and New Jersey.
“Damn, Chop. That bitch outta pocket. You better thank Allah that Amilli had the Porsche ‘cause the jawn woulda went up in flames, too,” Hamma said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Playing with the safety on his new gun, Lamar said, “Shorty, really gots to die. The bitch played with my paper. We’re not doing any more unnecessary shooting. It’s interfering with our paper, and that’s our main focus. It’s plain and simple, we get the drop, and then we lay shit the fuck out. I know this bitch-nigga, Slam, been taking the baby to daycare every day for the past few days.” He had caught Trap, Hamma’s, and Gunna’s undivided attention.
Since Gunna had been at the hospital to support him and gave him a new gun, Lamar had welcomed him back to the squad.
“Aight, so I’ma slide up on him as soon as he comes out from dropping ya daughter off,” suggested Hamma.
“Naw, Ham, I ain’t got no daughter,” Lamar said, slamming a fist on the table. “Slide up on him with the baby. Fuck that! I don’t want any ties with Nikia. She ran off with that work and sided with her father that ain’t never been there. Her father and daughter gettin’ killed gonna hurt her more than anything else I do.”
“So you want us to kill ya daughter?” Gunna said. “Man, you must be crazy.”
“I don’t have a fuckin’ daughter,” barked Lamar.
“Well, aight, then, the old nigga, Roc Wilda, been hanging with Slam, so I am assuming that he has to go?”
“You assume right,” Lamar said, smirking.
Trap replied. “Good, he’s gon’ be easy. I got the drop on his job.”
“It’s time to get real. Them niggas may try to blitz, and if they do, we gotta be on point,” Lamar said as the men got ready to disperse.
“We ready,” Trap insisted.