Neighborhood.

[Soapy]

Gloria about to have the entire team laughing at Keshawn for being afraid of pussy.

The ex about to swoop in and take ol' girl from him too

Also, Jessica saying nigga now?

Also, also, these niggas playing like ass. Lawd almighty.

Jessica a POC, she can't say nigga? jajaja

yeah this team is two packs of ass. half the team can't defend. and the ones that can can't shoot.

Donovan Clingan big for nothing ass was pissing me off in that denver game

statline's are crazy. Man is a walking triple double at the 4

might as well fill up the stat sheet on this sorry ass team

[Soapy]

Highlight Game: November 9th, 2026 - Paycom Center, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
(2-7) Portland Trail Blazers at Oklahoma City Thunder (7-5)

---

POR | 24 | 23 | 39 | 22 | 108
OKC | 28 | 26 | 29 | 40 | 123

Starting Lineups
Damian Lillard - G - Shai Gilgeous-Alexander
Shaedon Sharpe - G - Cason Wallace
Michael Porter Jr. - F - Jalen Williams
Keshawn Chase - F - Chet Holmgren
Donovan Clingan - C - Isaiah Hartenstein



G Damian Lillard: 28 pts, 3 reb, 3 ast, 11-18 FG, 5-12 3PT
G Shaedon Sharpe: 10 pts, 9 ast, 2-7 FG, 1-3 3PT, 5-7 FT
F Michael Porter Jr: 17 pts, 5 reb, 7 ast, 6-10 FG, 5-9 3PT
F Keshawn Chase: 31 pts, 17 reb, 2 blk, 5 TO, 12-24 FG, 0-4 3PT, 7-8 FT
C Donovan Clingan: 8 pts, 9 reb, 2 ast, 4 blk, 3-3 FG

F Jalen Williams: 34 pts, 4 reb, 3 ast, 14-24 FG, 6-13 3PT
G Shai Gilgeous-Alexander: 31 pts, 7 reb, 5 ast, 13-25 FG, 5-7 3PT
F Chet Holmgren: 15 pts, 12 reb, 5 as,t 2 stl, 3 blk, 5-12 FG, 1-7 3PT, 4-5 FT

---

(2-8) @ (7-6)

POR | 33 | 11 | 23 | 34 | 101
DEN | 19 | 38 | 26 | 29 | 112

POR F Keshawn Chase: 9 Pts, 5 Reb, 7 Ast, 4-18 FG, 0-5 3PT
DEN C Nikola Jokic: 33 Pts, 14 Reb, 11 Ast, 12-20 FG, 3-6 3PT, 6-9 FT

---

(10-3) @ (3-8)

MIN | 23 | 19 | 34 | 22 | 98
POR | 23 | 21 | 34 | 33 | 111

MIN F Julius Randle: 30 Pts, 6 Reb, 12-18 FG, 4-5 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 12 Pts, 8 Reb, 11 Ast, 3 Stl, 3 Blk, 6-14 FG, 0-3 3PT

Upcoming Schedule vs. Miami Heat (8-5), vs. Houston Rockets (6-9), vs. Sacramento Kings (9-4)
Season Stats 22.4 PPG, 9.5 RPG, 8.2 APG, 1.6 SPG, 1.5 BPG, 3.8 TOPG, 47 FG%, 23 3PT%, 76 FT%

[Agent]

that boy was fraudulent against the Nuggets. Joker put him in the wash.

Then Randle gave it to him too

[Captain Canada]

Keshawn been going crazy, but the Blazers are booty.

Might need to force your way out of there sooner rather than later.

[The JZA]

Balling out against OKC just for Joker to bend him over, that's not the wave my brudduh

[Soapy]

that boy was fraudulent against the Nuggets. Joker put him in the wash.

Then Randle gave it to him too

donovan clingan is who got that jokic work (most of it)

Keshawn been going crazy, but the Blazers are booty.

Might need to force your way out of there sooner rather than later.

load up on empty stats and ratings boost and then we will ring chase

Balling out against OKC just for Joker to bend him over, that's not the wave my brudduh

talk to donovan bum ass

[Soapy]

The Good, The Bad and The Dollar Menu - Episode 5
"You still here, nigga?"

DJ didn’t look up as he continued to pack the last of his toiletries into a small bag. He tied off the bag with a twist. "They processing me right now."

The tier bustled with the usual mid morning activity with inmates shuffling to and from breakfast, the metallic clang of doors opening and closing. The loudness of it all wasn’t something that DJ was going to miss.

"Got something for you, Blood" Trey said, pulling a small stack of ramen soups.

DJ laughed, accepting the contraband. "Fuck I need this shit for?"

"Man, you need to pass them motherfuckers out," Trey schooled him, "You never know when you might need a favor from a nigga that’ll be home in a minute."

DJ nodded as he took the advice, as he often did. A few minutes later, he walked the tier, passing out soups, slapping hands and bumping shoulders with men who'd become something like family over the years.

He had been a wet behind the ear nineteen year old when he came in from County, the judge berating him for his social media presence following the armed robbery. The take? A gold plated necklace. Two moissanite watches and a quarter zip of weed. It had cost him five years of his life, five years he would never get back. Five years later, his ears were a bit dryer, his body inked with tattoos that pledged allegiance to his newfound fraternity.

"Crowder!" A CO's voice boomed from the control booth.

DJ’s head quickly turned around and nodded. The last time, hopefully, he’d hear his name in these walls.

"Let me holla at you real quick," Trey said, guiding him toward the showers.

The shower area was empty this time of morning, the concrete floor still damp.

"Listen," Trey told him. "When you get to your cousin's spot, tap in with my people when you check in."

DJ nodded along, "For sure, for sure."

Trey's jaw tightened. "Stay out the way, though. Package should hold you over but don’t go trying to make too many moves all at once, you feel me?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he answered, his anxiety starting to rise as if at any moment, the parole board would walk into the bathroom and tell him he wasn’t going home anymore.

"Aight," Trey clasped his hand, pulling him into a quick embrace. "I don’t want to see your ass back in here, Blood."

"Never that," DJ assured him, "Next time we link up, it’s gonna be mad big booty bitches I’m talking like Asians, big booty white bitches from the valley and all that shit homie."

"Yeah, whatever, nigga," Trey shook his head as he walked away, a small smile escaping his lips.

…

The nightclub was already at full capacity by the time Candace stepped onto the small stage. It wasn’t exactly Rolling Loud but brown paper bag money was still money, especially on a random Thursday night.

"All my bitches in here looking good as fuck tonight!"

The crowd roared back at her, hungry for her attention. For most of them, this was the closest they’d get to a celebrity and in a years time, the story would change to how they partied with Kandi one night at a club.

She hadn’t even gotten to the chorus of her first song when she noticed him. A flash of diamonds and that unmistakable smirk. His entourage had claimed the corner section, champagne bottles lined up like soldiers, probably emptying the coffers of the club already. His eyes locked on her, raising his glass in her direction.

Candace turned away, focusing on the opposite side of the club. She finished her first song but his gaze never left. Throughout her performance, she felt his stare burning into her, but she kept her attention anywhere else whether on the DJ booth, on the crowd, on the packed bar in the back. Anywhere but on him.

As she wrapped up her final song, she motioned to her assistant who understood the assignment and went to collect the backend of their payment before she got off the stage. When he returned a few minutes later, she addressed the crowd for the final time.

"Y'all been amazing!" she shouted into the mic before blowing kisses to the crowd. "Make some motherfucking noise!"

Backstage, her security team were already waiting, familiar with the process. The group moved through the back corridors of the club, two guys in the front leading the way while another stayed close to Candace. When they pushed through the exit door to the parking lot, the cool night air hit her face for just a moment before she found him once again.

He was leaning against the Suburban, surrounded by his familiar entourage. The club's security guard who was supposed to be watching the area stood awkwardly to the side, clearly having been intimidated into letting them through.

"I know you serious about that chicken," Big Trell announced, his voice carrying across the lot. "I know my baby was gonna get the fuck up outta there soon as she collected! Ain’t that right, babe?!"

"Come on, Trell," one of the security guards replied as they stepped forward, "What we doing?"

The tension in the air thickened as Big Trell's entourage shifted, hands disappearing into jackets and waistbands.

"It's fine," Candace said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let me talk to his ass."

Her security team exchanged glances but stepped aside enough to let her through while staying close.

Candace approached Big Trell, maintaining enough distance. "What are you doing?"

"Just wanted to see you," he replied. "You been avoiding me like you owe me money or something."

"Latrell, we have nothing to talk about," she said, keeping her voice low but firm. "You need to grow the fuck up. You looking stupid right now."

Big Trell laughed. "Come on, now. We got plenty to talk about."

"There's absolutely nothing to talk about," Candace said.

"What, rap game slowing up so you looking to get into your basketball wives era or some shit?"

"You’re a fucking clown," Candace replied, already turning to leave.

Before she could fully turn, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. "I ain’t done talking to you, bitch."

The reaction was immediate. Both crews tensed, hands now openly reaching for weapons.

Candace didn't flinch. She stared directly into Big Trell's eyes, her voice dangerously calm. "Nigga, if you put your hands on me again…"

Neither moved at first. His grip wasn't painful but familiar, too familiar. A few seconds later, he released her, throwing his hands up with an exaggerated laugh.

"Damn, a nigga can’t even talk to his bitch anymore."

He backed away, still chuckling as he motioned for his crew to follow.

"You know where I be at when you ready for a real nigga again," he called over his shoulder as they headed toward their cars.

…

"Yo Keshawn, it's me. Hit me back when you get this, homie. We got some shit we need to talk about. It's important."

Stacks ended the call and tossed the phone onto his unmade bed. Fifth fucking call in two weeks and nothing but silence from the other end. Stacks pulled open the closet door and shoved aside the hanging clothes, revealing the small safe bolted to the back wall. He twisted the dial, the tumblers clicking into place. The door swung open, ironically revealing stacks of bills that looked far too thin for comfort.

"Motherfucker," he muttered, counting the rubber-banded bundles. Not nearly enough.

The Crips had kept on hitting the stash houses, hitting three more in the last month. Someone was feeding them information, and he had his suspicions, but right now the immediate problem was cash flow. The Peckerwoods weren't the type to extend credit, especially not to someone they inherently would prefer not to work with.

Stacks grabbed three bundles, stuffing them into his pocket before locking the safe again, the apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He grabbed his keys and his piece from the nightstand drawer, tucking it into his waistband at the small of his back.

As he headed for the door, his phone buzzed. For a moment, hope flared that it might be Keshawn finally returning his calls, but the screen showed Peanut instead.

"What's good?" Stacks answered, locking his apartment door behind him.

"Benji just finished count," Darius said, his voice tight. "The terrace boys short again."

Stacks closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of the hallway. "How much?"

"About thirteen hundred."

[Captain Canada]

Damn, Stacks really spiraling that drain

[Soapy]

Damn, Stacks really spiraling that drain

walls closing in fr fr

[Caesar]

Man wrote “advise” in this like he British.

Candace for the streets. But you should’ve picked a different name fn.

Stacks not long for this world