Behind the Scenes:

A BIRDHOUSE IN BROOKLYN

Jason hurled himself into his delivery. “You’re damn right! Jeez, all those toy niggas? What, the thing now is throwies, so we go out bombing with throwies? That shit is played out. Fuck that!”

The boys’ murmured agreement rose up around Jason—a clandestine ceremonial chant.

“Throwies ain’t bombing!

“Throwies ain’t shit!”

Jason gestured to the open pages of his Black Book like a missionary possessed. His bible. He flipped from the outline across a spread of pages to the hookups his crew would follow religiously.

“That's the stuff we put up on a wall. We ain't gonna be bitin' anyone's shit. Let's lead! Fucking wiggers. What? They think they the shit because they tag, na'mean?”