Pimp: The Story of My Life
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The book that brought black literature to the streets is back to show the Hip-Hop generation what it’s all about, where they came from.
A blueprint. A bible. What Sun Tzu’s Art of War was to ancient China, Pimp is to the streets. This is the story of Iceberg Slim’s life as he saw, felt, tasted, and smelled it. A trip through hell by the one man who lived to tell the tale. The dangers of jail, addiction, and death that are still all too familiar.
By telling the story of one man’s struggles and triumphs in an underground world, Pimp shows us the game doesn’t change, it just has a different swagger.
Iceberg Slim’s story is now depicted in a major motion picture. The documentary, Iceberg Slim: Portrait of a Pimp, shows Slim’s transformation from pimp to the author of seven timeless books.
trouble, buddy. The prick up front has cracked up four or five cons in these cells since I came back … There’s six of us on the row now. Only three are escapees. The rest are doing short punishment time like two days to a week. I’ll give you background on other things later, I know what screws will get anything you want for a price.” I lit a cigarette and sat on the cot. I thought, Coppola is a helluva stud to keep his skull straight for six months on Happiness Lane. He doesn’t know I’m just
putting a ring in Pepper’s nose. Before I got busted, I had seen him at Jimmy’s joint. He had looked horrible then, and now less than a year and a half later he looked like a breathing corpse. Hoss was his Boss. He had chippied around and gotten hooked. It was Friday, almost midnight when I found him. He looked at me and made that clacking sound against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. You know, that mischievous, weirdly joyful sound that a young kid makes the instant before he rams a
who shortly after getting to Chicago scored a chef’s job at a huge middle-class hotel. Mama was put on as a waitress. Mama told me that even with both of them working twelve hours a day, six days a week they couldn’t save a nickel or buy furniture or anything. My idiot father had come to the big city and gone sucker wild. He couldn’t stay away from the high-yellow whores with their big asses and bitch-dog sexual antics. What they didn’t con him out of he lost in the cheat crap joints. At the
a gray mohair vine. Peaches stood before the white velour couch and bared her fangs. The three pimps sitting on it scattered off it like quail under a double-barreled shotgun. They thumped their rear ends to the carpet. Sweet, Top, and Peaches sat on the couch. I sat on a satin pillow in the corner near the glass door. I watched the show. I saw Patch Eye go and sit behind the bar. Everybody was in a big half-circle around the couch. It was like the couch was a stage, and Sweet the star. Sweet
said I needed rest. He said I couldn’t expect to live long unless I rested. Leroy nursed me back to health. “He was good to me. I needed someone who cared. I married him when I was just four months shy of seventeen. I went with Leroy on a string of one-nighters in the Midwest. The group broke up in Youngstown, Ohio. We were stranded. Leroy got a job in an industrial cleaning plant. The second week a boiler exploded and you’ve seen his face. “His lawyer says we can expect a ten-thousand dollar