4am In Atlantic City

4Am In A.C

Just another love song, or just another crime wave? Emotions, Sex, cash, guns, love, and death.

For me, it was for the love of the heist.

For her, it was for the love of the ice. “I love you, but I love diamonds more.” Her voice.

I respected her position money over flesh. She adored the Tech .22 and Ari Lennox.

For me, it was the Colt .45 and Yung Bleu. “Robbery Adeux” My voice. I was addicted to crime like a drug. No choice. I grew up like this.

And together we were to blow up, glow up, light the town up. We painted the city blood red, and we adorned it with diamonds and guns.

To protect the guilty, her name I could never mention… So, we shall call her Zoe.

Yellow, hinted with red. Just how I like ’em. An hourglass figure, hazel eyes, and dreads. She wore hers the rock star way shaved like a Mohawk, parts on the side, model height, and her stride was to kill for.


Her style was personified. Hers! Sometimes it was the business suite: gangsta like pinstripe… Dior. Roger Vivier heels. Tech .22 in the Hermes cache. Bout her business she was. So sexy she was.

And, I was the nigga in her life. Quiet, low key, gangsta, you know me. My poetry was deep.

“I love it when you speak.” Her voice.

My car is the vehicle in which we coasted through the city. Top down Ari Lennox, Yung Bleu on shuffle “Night Drive” “2. A.M. in Houston”

4.A.M. in A.C., in the continental. My gangsta lifestyle provided me with luxury. Pinky ring, choke chain, KM was the charm, Patek Philippe on my wrist, gangsta bitch on my arm.

Just another love song or just another crime wave?

My brim stayed cocked, My Timbs stayed fresh, and my weed was loud, My gun was big! On special occasions, I wore Stefano Ricci threads, and Chelsea boots by John Lobb. My style personified. Me. I’m him!

4.A.m. in A.C., no cars on the streets. Me and Zoe. She gave me head while I drove… my little freak.

Zoe healed my love scars. Before her I was a man that didn’t believe in love. “Only love money.” My voice. I told Zoe this when she asked for my perspective on love. It was the third date I remember like it was yesterday.

Four years from the day. 1.A.M., in Vegas, Aria sky suites. Our arrangement was supposed to be a one night thing. She was so gorgeous and gangsta, I took her out again, and again, and again.

“Why not try loving another human being?” Her voice. She asked staring into my eyes as we lay in between the sheets.

“My heart is precious. So, I must protect it with everything… And I trust no other human being.” My voice.

Zoe sighed. Why? I wondered. This was only a fling. I made a mental note: never call her again.

The next morning we made our move, the ski mask way. She brung me in on her play. Some Willy was holding figures. Eight Mill’ to be exact.

To make a long story short we tied him up. Zoe’s eyes lit up when I discovered a Crown Royal knapsack with ten diamonds. I gave them to her she touched her heart, “All for me?” Her voice.

My number one rule was leave no witnesses. I was fixing to put one in the Mexican’s head, it blew my mind when instead she did. Six shots in his face– with the Tech .22.

A tingle shot through my heart. I pulled her hand and together we ran out of the house. We sped off in the dead man’s car.

Three dates and a robbery homicide with Zoe, and something was creeping in my heart.

I hopped my flight back to A.C. and she went her way. The entire flight all that I could think of was Zoe. “Woe!” My voice. This shit was getting real. I told myself that I would never call her again. Instead, I was liking all of her pics on the Gram. At the time, I was wondering what was love? Because I never experienced a feeling so intense before.

I got home and I couldn’t resist the urge to call. I picked up the phone and what a coincidence… Zoe was calling.

It was 1.A.M. in LA 4.A.M in A.C. In her background she played Ella Mae, I was listening to Durk.

Just another love song or just another crime wave?

We Face timed, “I just wanted to show you my new gun.” Her voice. She was brandishing the new Tech .22 through the camera.

“Look at my view.” My voice. I showed her the ocean and the sun rising through my window.

“Oh my God– that’s so beautiful. When, can I come and visit?” Her voice.

“Whenever you’re ready.” My voice.

“One day soon.” Her voice.

Through the phone, Zoe put on a show. Face time sex was remarkable. She made me feel like I was there.

Two weeks later, 10.A.M. in D.C., we met on Black Lives Matter Plaza. Sometimes Zoe be on that Afrocentric shit. Kinta cloth and shit.

As we strolled through D.C., we built on the image of the black man in America. Her thoughts were deep. Like Angela Davis when she wore the fro. “Black Power in my blood… My dad was a Panther.” Her voice.

Damn! Zoe was all that I could dream of: Gangsta, beautiful, and woke. She complemented my energy, a thuged out synergy. I was falling in love was this the end of me.

Zoe made me better. She bought me books to add to my mind’s progressions, gold to complement my drip, guns, knives, crossbows and shit.

Just another love song or just another crime wave?

Zoe her secret garden had me calling. “Let me take care of you for the rest of our lives.” My voice. In my line of work, this was a proposal.

12.A.M. in Miami, knee in the sand, gun on my waist, Tiffany in my hand. Zoe accepted my ring then we fucked in the sand.

Our romance was chopping the dreads off of some Haitian, and burning him with cigarettes until he spilled the beans. “A half a Mill’ in the basement.” His voice.

Zoe retrieved the cash, and I chopped off Dread’s head. “Sa Pa Se!” My voice. Zoe licked the blood off of my knife. “Umm…vamp life.”

Again, Zoe blew my mind. She was just too good to be true.

“On pretty lady, at long last love has arrived. Now that I found you stay. Don’t let me down I pray.” Lauryn Hill’s can’t take my eyes off of you was my prayer.

Outside of Zoe 

and my dough, nothing even mattered. I’ll take a bullet for her. A love like this… what more could I ask for?

Currently, it was 4.A.M. in A.C. No cars o the street. Me and Zoe. She gave me head while I drove. My little freak. We were headed home just married and honeymooned.

Just another love song or just another crime wave?

4.A.M. in A.C. Top down Yung Bleu was the sound. Zoe looked up, I was all over her face. Something was askew. I could feel it in the air. I looked in the rearview but nothing was there.

“What’s the matter?”Her voice. Zoe felt my energy, and grabbed the Tech .22 from under the seat.

“Nothing.” My voice. We amassed a world of enemies, and sometimes I felt things that weren’t there.

As quick as I lowered my guard, they appeared. Two bitches on street bikes Racing from behind. I knew that they weren’t right when they shot through the light. Strapped with Drakeos.

I smashed the gas and gripped the .45 running lights down Pacific ave.

Zoe upped the Tech .22 and let it blow.

The bitches on the bikes were closing in on either side of the Continental. They were raining fire in our direction bullets were whizzing pass my ear Striking the car. Somehow they were missing us.

Just another love song or just another crime wave.

4.A.M. in A.C. gun fire lit up the street. Guns popping was the sound. A would be assassin’s bullet shattered the windshield. It was as if these bitches had endless clips. Their bullets wouldn’t end.

Zoe was standing in the passenger seat, waving the Tech letting it rip. Her dreads were blowing in the wind.

The continental, I was racing it. I heard sirens in the distance. The law.was coming. The bikes were still on our rear. Zoe’s bullets were missing them. I spent a corner in an effort to ditch them. They were still on us.

“My gun jammed!” Her voice. I said a silent prayer, and passed Zoe my .45 with the extended clip. Zoe let it rip as if it were hers.

The biker bitches bullets were still whizzing by my ear.

A few more pops then a crack, and shit went silent. I looked over and my heart went silent.

Zoe took a bullet to the head… She was slumped over the seat… Dead!

Just another love song or just another crime wave?.. Emotions, sex cash, guns, love, and death!

Without Zoe what was life?


Published by korymcclary1221

My name is Kory McClary, I am 34 years old. I am currently serving a lengthy sentence at the New Jersey State prison in Trenton, New Jersey. I am fighting for my freedom so that I may return to my family and loved ones. Yet, I know that it is a long, tough, and bitter battle to achieve that goal. But, with the grace of God Almighty, and for the sake of my family, I will fight on. I am using this blog as a medium to enhance my voice and to bring awareness to my unfair condition leading out of my unjust conviction. While spending almost all of my time in a cell, I chose to write so that I may voice the reality of my situation, because without awareness there can never be Justice...! To escape the harsh reality of prison, I use the pen to release my frustrations. I use the pen to manifest my imagination. And, most of all, I use the pen to Fight. I am fighting for my Life! Just by reading Kory McClary's Blog, you are giving my plight and my word's a voice. Thank you. Please, stay tuned...

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