Happ

Activity: SR Date: 7/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 7/07/25 ScreenShots:

Participants: CripZ / @JiirakDaniels @OutLawsBOT RolePlay Story: It was one of them slow-ass afternoons, sun cookin’ the hood like bacon grease. Me and my day-one homie Vex was posted at the CripZ base, kickin’ back on them raggedy-ass lawn chairs, puffin’ on some loud and sippin' on that cheap ass forty. Outta nowhere, Vex lit up, looked at me like he had some big-ass idea. "Ayo, you ever heard of the Outlaws?" he asked, leanin’ in like it was top secret. I squinted. "Outlaws? Ain’t they them wild-ass boys runnin' the southside?" "Yeah," he said. "My boy Jiirak ridin’ with 'em. Said they celebratin’ a major W in they game, big money moves. Thinkin' it’s time we plug in wit' them." I ain’t need no more convincing. We CripZ don’t pass up no bag. We made the call, chopped it up with Jiirak over burner, and boom—deal struck. Them Outlaws needed a steady supply of party juice, and who better to deliver than us? So me and Vex hopped in the whip—a beat-up gray Rumpo van smellin’ like gas and success. We loaded that bitch with our finest brew: hood-favorite beers, high-class vodka, moonshine strong enough to slap ya granny, and even a few of them special THC-infused jungle juices. Them green bottles glowed like radioactive gold. We hit the road, bumpin’ some old-school West Coast heat, rollin’ deep through Los Santos streets till we pulled up at the Outlaws’ base. Jiirak was already there, leanin’ on a rusty lowrider, puffin' on a Black & Mild like it was gospel. He gave us the nod. “Unload it over there, by the crates. Keep it lowkey.” We stacked them boxes, neat and tight like Tetris pros. After that, we all sat down on some busted couches, sparked a fat blunt and passed it ‘round like communion. We got to talkin’ ‘bout trust, street loyalty, makin’ a solid pipeline—CripZ and Outlaws, side by side, breakin’ bread and buildin’ legacy. Shit felt like the start of somethin’ real. Jiirak even said, “This ain’t no one-time deal, homies. Y’all fam now.” After the smoke cleared and the bottles clinked, we dap’d up, shared a few more laughs, and said our goodbyes. Me and Vex slid back in the van, speakers still thumpin’, trunk now empty but pockets feelin’ heavy. Another win for the CripZ. Hustle don’t stop. Screenshots:

Activity: SR Date: 7/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 6/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 5/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 5/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 2/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 1/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: SR Date: 1/07/25 ScreenShots:

Activity: jailbreak Date: 1/07/25 ScreenShots:

Participants: CripZ RolePlay Story: Was chillin’ at the set, feet up, sippin’ on somethin’ light when I got word — a few of our spots runnin’ dry. Bars, clubs, food joints — all outta stock. Can’t have that. Hopped in the van, cruised over to the alcohol warehouse down by the docks. The workers already knew what time it was — loaded crates of bottles, cases of top-shelf and cheap swill alike. Packed it tight, shut the doors, and peeled out. Started the route: first the bar in Jefferson, then that club out in Marina, last stop a greasy spoon in Willowfield. Each one paid me cash up front, no questions, no delays. Dropped the goods, dipped quick. No names, no noise. Just business. Smooth, clean, and profitable. Crip hustle, always in motion Screenshots:

Participants: CripZ RolePlay Story: Was slidin’ through LS, just ridin’ low when my phone buzzed — call from the farm crew. “Yo, the weed house packed. Time to scoop.” Say less. Whipped a quick U-turn, smashed down the highway, straight to the countryside spot. Pulled up, whole place reekin’ loud. Crates stacked high, buds trimmed and bagged. No time wasted — popped the truck bed and started loadin' it up, full to the brim. Ride was heavy as hell, but I kept it smooth, back roads only. Eyes peeled for 12. Made it back to base, homies opened the gate. We offloaded every damn bag into storage — ready to push weight when the time’s right. Green gold stackin’. Weed game locked. Crip business, always. Screenshots:

Participants: CripZ RolePlay Story: Was coolin' at the trap when my phone lit up. Unknown number. Picked up — dude on the line soundin’ mad tight. Said some fool been smashin’ his girl, wearin’ purple, short dude, always hangin' near the old GSF base. Wanted that handled — quiet but permanent. Say less. Grabbed my duffel, tossed the rifle in, and slid into my black van. Rolled out, took the backstreets, ended up posted in an alley across from the base. Waited. Soon enough, lil' short dude in purple popped up, laughin' with some other bums. I zoomed in with my cam, snapped a shot, sent it to the client. Few seconds later — text back: “That’s him. Do it.” Pulled the rifle out, cracked the window, scoped in. Took a deep breath. POP. One clean shot — dome cracked. Fool dropped like trash. No time to hang around. Dipped out the alley, tires screechin’. Van gone, me gone. Job done. Another rat off the map. Easy money. Crip shit. Screenshots:

Participants: CripZ RolePlay Story: Was chillin’ at the set, smokin’ a blunt and kickin’ it wit’ the homies when my phone buzzed. Monthly reminder popped up — “Collections Day.” Time to hit the block and get that paper. Hopped in the blue Slamvan, slid through the hood lowkey. First stop — that weak-ass burger joint on the corner. Manager already waitin’ with the envelope, scared to even make eye contact. Snatched it, kept movin’. Next was the sex shop near Market. Dude tried actin’ funny at first, so I flashed the grip in my waistband — he folded like laundry. Cash handed over, no questions. Last stop — Ammu-Nation. They know better than to play with us. Smooth pickup, no talk. Total haul? $9K clean. Drove straight back to base, dropped the stacks in the safe, added it to the crew funds. Another day, another hustle. They pay for protection — or they pay in blood. Crip business. Screenshots: