Yo what's good evil streets fam, y'all know the deal we back at it with another episode, big shout to all my members and subscribers for pulling up on the daily, real talk, y'all the backbone of this whole operation, the reason we still standing. Anybody trying to get their music, brand or business out there, hit me at evil streets media at gmail.com, we can work something out. Much love to everybody sending cash app donations too, and for anybody wanting to throw support our way, evil streets TV on cash app, every dollar goes right back into making this channel pop. Aight y'all, let's dive into this gangster chronicle.
The Furtado brothers, Todd, Tony and Lance, they came up in the trenches of Harlem, where the concrete was buzzing with revolution and that street grind. Back in the 60s, Harlem was electric, you had the spirits of Malcolm X and MLK in the air, real talk. But when the family relocated to southeast Queens, it was like entering a completely different universe. Queens had that quiet, suburban vibe, like countryside compared to Harlem's fast moving energy and chaos. But no matter where they planted their feet, the Furtado brothers kept that Harlem inferno burning inside them. Their household was stable, two parent home, pops worked in law enforcement, moms was all about that education life. But bread was scarce, and even though their parents put in work, them checks never stretched far enough. From young, they understood the world wasn't handing out nothing, so they had to grab it themselves.
By the time they reached their early teens, the brothers weren't just observing the streets, they was stepping into the mix at eleven, twelve and thirteen years old. They connected with one of the biggest gangs in Queens, but they wasn't about violence just for the sake of it, nah, they was about making it out alive. The neighborhood was rough and racism was right in your face every single day. The brothers though, they saw themselves as protectors, like modern day Robin Hoods on the block, making sure their people was straight, looking out for the community while trying to elevate their own situation. It didn't take long before they jumped into the game, starting with weed, at that time it wasn't just some street move, it was a survival tactic. Under the guidance of their older brother, they assembled a crew of two hundred, three hundred gang members, all moving weed for them. The world around them was shifting, heroin was creeping into the picture and the Vietnam war was shaking up the streets heavy. But the brothers had a blueprint, they was in it to stack paper, protect their own and keep pushing forward relentlessly. It wasn't just about the hustle, it was about loyalty, survival and making sure their family stayed on top.
The family wasn't wealthy, but they had a solid foundation, their mother grinded hard and their father was in law enforcement, but despite all their efforts, money stayed tight. As they entered their teenage years, the brothers realized that to survive and thrive in their environment, they would need to hustle hard. Initially they joined the Saigons, one of the biggest gangs in the area, but this chapter wouldn't last long. While they was out in Westbury, the gang's name switched up, their cousins still in Queens called to tell them that they was now part of a new crew, the Seven Crowns. The name stuck, and when they moved back to Queens, they came into contact with actual Seven Crowns members, that's when they truly understood what they'd stepped into. The Seven Crowns started in the Bronx and eventually spread to Queens in the early 70s, thanks to a connection between a member of the Bronx based crew and a man known as Mr. Black in Queens.
By the mid 70s, the Seven Crowns was everywhere, expanding rapidly with different divisions, young crowns, little crowns, big crowns, and even royal crowns for females. It wasn't long before the Seven Crowns was boasting up to a thousand, fifteen hundred members strong, with different sections spread throughout the boroughs. The brothers started off small in the game, selling nickel bags of weed and rolling joints for people to flip, it was a simple hustle, just trying to make some bread. But things escalated quickly. By the time the mid 70s hit, they wasn't just selling weed in small quantities, they was buying pounds, bagging it up and distributing it, making way more money than they initially expected.
The brothers didn't see themselves as masterminds at first, they was just trying to help their moms make ends meet, they wasn't planning on starting a massive drug enterprise, they was just trying to survive. They didn't even think they had a talent for it, it was more about getting by and the street hustle was part of that reality. Taking advice from an older brother who warned them about the dangers of selling harder drugs like heroin or coke, they stayed focused on weed. But that didn't last, the crew grew and so did the scale of their operations. They didn't have no blueprint or grand strategy for success, it all just fell into place naturally. One hustle led to another and before they knew it, they was part of a much larger, more dangerous game. But by the late 70s, they was no longer just small time players, their crew, the Seven Crowns, was growing into one of the biggest and most powerful street organizations in Queens, setting the stage for the massive drug operations that would dominate the 80s.
Weed wasn't cutting it no more, heroin was the drug of choice for the older heads and slowly the brothers started to feel the pull. They got in deep, moving from marijuana to heroin and later on even cocaine, though cocaine was seen as a rich man's drug, a high for the wealthy and white, something you didn't see in the hood too often back then. Heroin however was more accessible and it soon became the fuel that fed their growing operation. But the transition wasn't smooth or deliberate, it was a series of small decisions led by necessity and survival. The brothers followed the lead of the eldest, Tony, who became the mastermind, it wasn't an orchestrated plan, it was just how things played out. They didn't have a grand vision or strategy, just the instinct to make money and move forward into the future. They knew they couldn't stay in the weed business forever and heroin seemed like the next step up. But with the money came the dangerous lifestyle, addiction, death, betrayal, and it all weighed heavily on their minds.
By the time they was dealing heroin, they was making serious money, but the highs came with plenty of lows. Business was booming one day and the next it could all come crashing down around them. They learned that the drug game wasn't just about hustling, it was about survival in a brutal world where one wrong move could cost you everything. Friends they once knew started to fall to addiction and violence, casualties of the very game they had joined. Despite the money, the fame and the power, they was never fully comfortable with the cost. The world they entered wasn't glamorous, it was a fast road to destruction. The more they made, the more they lost, and they knew the risks, but the temptation to climb higher was always there in front of them. They watched others take shortcuts, break the rules and do whatever it took to survive, but for the Furtado brothers, they stuck to their own codes even as the Seven Crowns began to take on new dimensions.
The money from the heroin came fast, but it also brought complications, the Seven Crowns wasn't necessarily pushing drugs, they was just a gang, the brothers however had their own ambitions and they didn't rely on the gang structure. They didn't want their hustle tied to the larger gang, so they operated independently, making their own moves. The Seven Crowns was just a backdrop to their personal rise, what they did was their business, not the crew's. They was moving serious weight, we talking thousands of kilos every six months, a operation that had the feds shook and the streets watching their every move. Tony orchestrated the whole thing while Todd and Lance handled distribution and muscle, each brother playing their role to perfection. They kept it tight, kept it organized, and most importantly, they kept it profitable. By the early 80s, the Furtado brothers was some of the most feared and respected names in the Queens drug trade, their reputation spread from block to block like wildfire.
But every rise has a fall, and the higher you climb, the harder you drop. Federal agents was building cases, informants was talking, and the walls was closing in fast. The brothers had made enemies too, rivals looking to take them down and take their position. Violence erupted on the streets, bodies started dropping, and the heat from law enforcement kept intensifying. The operation that once seemed untouchable was starting to crack under pressure. Internal disputes, paranoia, and the constant threat of arrest created tension between the brothers. What was once a unified front was beginning to fracture. By the mid-80s, the empire they built was under siege from all sides, and it became clear that their days of dominance was coming to an end.
The inevitable happened when federal indictments came down like thunder. The brothers was arrested, their empire dismantled, their organization crushed. The trials was massive, the sentences severe, and the fall from grace was complete. What the streets had given them, the system took away, and there wasn't no coming back from that. The Furtado brothers spent decades behind bars, their youth and their prime years locked away, paying for the choices they made on those Queens streets.
In the end, the Furtado brothers tale isn't one of glory or triumph, it's a cautionary story of young men who got caught up in the world of drugs, money and violence. They didn't set out to become drug kingpins, they was just trying to make it out, trying to help their mom and survive. But once they was in, there was no getting out, the streets don't care about your intentions, they only care about your hustle, and for the Furtado brothers, the hustle became their whole life and ultimately their downfall. Their legacy remains a stark reminder that the fast money and street power comes with a price that can never be repaid, a cautionary tale etched into the history of Queens that echoes through generations, warning young cats that the game always collects its debt, no matter how long you think you can run.