Probability- measure or estimation of likelihood of occurrence of an event.
Mathematics are an integral branch of the human existence from the mundane to the majestic. Amongst this science of the moors is the silent foresight that is probability. The term playing the odds was birthed from it and it is a reflection of everyone’s ability to read the unseen patterns. Some choose to ignore it while others live and die by it. It’s funny how something as abstract as intuition can be expressed in numbers and theory. People who possess advanced foresight learned to use this theory from consistent trial by fire.
A scenario from a past life popped into my brain the other day for absolutely no reason at all. Back when nagas use to go the strip to buy weed me and some of my homies saw probability demonstrated clear as day. On a hot summers day in the early 2000’s nagas was lookin to get smacked; this was back when everybody aint have a cell phone and certain strips were known for certain things. I had just got my bucket a couple weeks prior and I still had paper tags on it. Paper tags use to be sweet back then because the dates were written in marker on them.
All you needed was a hair dryer and some white out and you could change the date for as long you needed to. Why go through the trouble you ask? Simple, the car couldn’t pass inspection. I had got it from an auction and it was as is. The tags was only good for 15 days. I aint have the money to fix it and it was summertime and I knew what streets to go down and what alleys to hit if I had to haul ass. Make sense now? Me and a homie go scoop the other homie and he got a a bottle with him. We only 19 at the time and we aint give two s**ts bout nothin.
We laughin on the way to the strip and Park Police in my rearview all of a sudden. Nagas start gettin antsy cuz we know it’s bout to get hairy. One homie got a warrant the other got the bottle on him plus the tags aint straight. I couldn’t really dip on em it was too much traffic so I had to pull over. I pull over and he asks me bout the tag and I told him I’m on my way to the shop to get it reinspected. He believed me and just gave me a warning. When I pulled off the homies let out a sigh of relief and we went back to the regularly scheduled program. 20 minutes pass and I’m turning the corner to go the strip.
Nagas was deep out there bout they was bout money and not bulls**t so I aint pay it no mind. As soon as I get to the building and get ready to hop out a naga on the block yells out Feds! and everybody scatters. I hop back in the car and tried to pull off real quick and see them in my rearview. The way strip was set up was the streets was in an L shape so you had to turn left and drive all the way up the other block to get out of dodge. I get to the light at the end of the block and was blown because it turned red and it was a one way. Me and the homies knew soon as I turned they was gonna pull me over.
My homie with the warrants put his ID in my stash spot under the floorboard. I just cut a slit in the carpet that was big enough to put little ish in like a bag or whatever; that day it save him that trip. I turn and they bang it on me. We sittin there for 10 minutes then another car pulls up. We just know we bout to take that ride; nagas blown and it’s quiet as hell in the car. They pull us out one by one and ask the usual bulls**t questions like what are you doin around here yada yada yada while they searchin me.
Im sitting on the curb and they make homie with the warrant get out search him and they ask him why he aint got no ID on him. He tell him he left it in the house. He gave him a fake name and the whole nine. Homie in the back seat with a bottle get pulled out. I look up and I see everybody on the bus lookin at us; ish turned into a scene mane. Then they start searchin the car I mean tearin that ish up man they even found a white owl I had lost weeks prior. They pour out my mans bottle cuz they knew I was underage. After all that bulls**t they let us go and we confused as f**k.
Turns out that some nagas just shot up another block in a car identical to mine and they seen my car and thought it was me. One of the feds told us that when they let us go. They wasn’t stressin bout the tag they just said get it taken care of. When they pull off homie that got his bottle poured out mad as s**t. He said man we should go back round there; the feds gone. They lookin for them nagas they aint gonna be on the strip. I said naw man I aint fukkin wit it. Then the other homie said go back round there man s**t we might as well get a bag after this ish. I aint never been pressed out by the feds twice in less than an hour. That sold my dumbass 19 year old mind on it.
We go back around there and nagas slowly starting to trickle back on the block. I see homie I normally buy from and he laughed me out. I made transactions and dipped. When we get to the homie’s house we sitting there smoking laughin at this s**t. In retrospect homie that told me to go back on the block wasn’t crazy he just understood probability better than I did at the time. He knew that the probability of the feds doubling back to the strip were slim especially since they were lookin for them other nagas. He paid attention to the patterns and his intuition and he predicted correctly.