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Denzel Washington Interview
The Return of Superfly
Frank Lucas, once the city's biggest, baddest heroin kingpin the original O.G. in chinchilla, now seems like just a ver...
The Return of Superfly Frank Lucas, once the city's biggest, baddest heroin kingpin the original O.G. in chinchilla, now seems like just a very likable guy. But don't be fooled. * By Mark Jacobson * Published Aug 14, 2000
During the early seventies, when for a sable-coat-wearing, Superfly-strutting instant of urban time he was perhaps the biggest heroin dealer in Harlem, Frank Lucas would sit at the corner of 116th Street and Eighth Avenue in a beat-up Chevrolet he called Nellybelle. Then living in a suite at the Regency Hotel with 100 custom-made, multi-hued suits in the closet, Lucas owned several cars. He had a Rolls, a Mercedes, a Corvette Sting Ray, and a 427 muscle job he'd once topped out at 160 mph near Exit 16E of the Jersey Turnpike, scaring himself so silly that he gave the car to his brother's wife just to get it out of his sight.
But for "spying," Nellybelle was best.
"Who'd think I'd be in a shit $300 car like that?" asks Lucas, who claims he'd clear up to $1 million a day selling dope on 116th Street.
"One-sixteenth Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenue was mine. I bought it. I ran it. I owned it," Lucas says. "When something is yours, you've got to be Johnny-on-the-spot, ready to take it to the top. So I'd sit in Nellybelle by the Roman Garden Bar, cap pulled down, with a fake beard, dark glasses, long wig . . . I'd be up beside people dealing my stuff, and no one knew who I was . . ."
It was a matter of control, and trust. As the leader of the heroin-dealing ring called the Country Boys, Lucas, older brother to Ezell, Vernon Lee, John Paul, Larry, and Leevan Lucas, was known for restricting his operation to blood relatives and others from his rural North Carolina area hometown. This was because, Lucas says, in his down-home creak of a voice, "a country boy, he ain't hip . . . he's not used to big cars, fancy ladies, and diamond rings. He'll be loyal to you. A country boy, you can give him any amount of money. His wife and kids might be hungry, and he'll never touch your stuff until he checks with you. City boys ain't like that. A city boy will take your last dime, look you in the face, and swear he ain't got it . . . You don't want a city boy -- the sonofabitch is just no good."
Back in the early seventies, there were many "brands" of dope in Harlem. Tru Blu, Mean Machine, Could Be Fatal, Dick Down, Boody, Cooley High, Capone, Ding Dong, Fuck Me, Fuck You, Nice, Nice to Be Nice, Oh -- Can't Get Enough of That Funky Stuff, Tragic Magic, Gerber, The Judge, 32, 32-20, O.D., Correct, Official Correct, Past Due, Payback, Revenge, Green Tape, Red Tape, Rush, Swear to God, PraisePraisePraise, KillKillKill, Killer 1, Killer 2, KKK, Good Pussy, Taster's Choice, Harlem Hijack, Joint, Insured for Life, and Insured for Death were only a few of the brand names rubber-stamped onto cellophane bags. But none sold like Frank Lucas's Blue Magic.
"That's because with Blue Magic, you could get 10 percent purity," Lucas asserts. "Any other, if you got 5 percent, you were doing good. We put it out there at four in the afternoon, when the cops changed shifts. That gave you a couple of hours before those lazy bastards got down there. My buyers, though, you could set your watch by them. By four o'clock, we had enough niggers in the street to make a Tarzan movie. They had to reroute the bus on Eighth Avenue. Call the Transit Department if it's not so. By nine o'clock, I ain't got a fucking gram. Everything is gone. Sold . . . and I got myself a million dollars.
"I'd sit there in Nellybelle and watch the money roll in," says Frank Lucas of those near-forgotten days when Abe Beame lay his pint-size head upon the pillow at Gracie Mansion. "And no one even knew it was me. I was a shadow. A ghost . . . what we call down home a haint . . . That was me, the Haint of Harlem."
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You guys should write a book called , "I don't know when to quit". It cuold be followed up by the companion novel "Who gives a fuck". You kids have to much time and not enough friends.Seriosly.And if your not kids,GROW THE FUCK UP.
I agree. you are stupid. You really don't understand. I am a black man that earned over a million dollars cash.. the money is gone. I fucked up. but, stop with this black shit, white people owes. it is bullshit. trust me i know. i mean no disrespect. we fuck up our own neighborhood. i get what you are saying from a historical stand point. we are fucked up because of the american experience has been hard.
im not sayin that if you read what i said carefully, im sayin that when at the point that drugs make you mentally unstable thats youre own fault for gettin at that point, if you know drugs are bad dont do dem simple as that
This movie is fuking great, this movie is about money, frank was poor and wanted to be rich end of story! if your poor ul know what i mean, growing up poor is shit and some people would do anything thing not to be poor again frank lucus did it for money and money makes you evil if used wrongly!!!!!
So before you come up in here with you BLACK POWER bullshit. Talk to some real niggas in the hood about growing up when niggas moms is on welfare, and drugged up. They daddys in Jail, and all they know is the Streets. I am happy your mom taught you that son but not everyone is that fortunate. So dont come at me like a fucking house nigger when niggas is on the field struggling to survive in a crooked, biased, racist country called America. Oh yea and FUCK YOU.
Quick schooling for the dumbass highrollerk; Ignorance: 1. lacking in knowledge or training; unlearned 2. lacking knowledge or information as to a particular subject or fact 3. uninformed; unaware. 4. due to or showing lack of knowledge or training: an ignorant statement. I see that all your able to do is repeat yourself. Instead of feeling more and more stupid with every word of your reply that I read, I'm going to end it with this: read no. 2 again bro, you don't know shit about me.
Quick shooling for a faggot called jr22jess, 1. Learn to read and comprehend before you make a statement 2. Growing up in the "hood" does not give you credibility, therefore it is possible your statement is from a biased point of view. 3. Options can be limited. 4. You assume when you say " thats the problem with people like you". You also do not know shit about me either. 5. Success is subjective and differs with each individual. Ill end with this FUCK YOU HOUSE NIGGER
Congratulations, you're a fucking faggot. First I don't care if your black. Secondly growing up in the hood and being apart and living on the Streets, are two different perspectives. Growing up in the hood give you NO credibility especially when you deny the impact of the SYSTEM. I am a black man and I GREW up in the hood, but I seperated myself from the street because I had the OPPORTUNITY. Some of my friends did not, therefore SLANGIN and BANGIN seemed to be the next option.
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1. lacking in knowledge or training; unlearned
2. lacking knowledge or information as to a particular subject or fact
3. uninformed; unaware.
4. due to or showing lack of knowledge or training: an ignorant statement.
I see that all your able to do is repeat yourself. Instead of feeling more and more stupid with every word of your reply that I read, I'm going to end it with this: read no. 2 again bro, you don't know shit about me.
1. Learn to read and comprehend before you make a statement
2. Growing up in the "hood" does not give you credibility, therefore it is possible your statement is from a biased point of view.
3. Options can be limited.
4. You assume when you say " thats the problem with people like you". You also do not know shit about me either.
5. Success is subjective and differs with each individual.
Ill end with this FUCK YOU HOUSE NIGGER