You know you are really good, or that your neighbourhood is really crappy, when you start picking the type and caliber of the gun making the shots.
My neighborhood is crappy (although not nearly as crappy as certain neighborhoods of this city like Point Breeze the next over or the Badlands in North Philly), but I got a tin ear. I've got an AR-15, AK-47, Saiga .308 and numerous handguns of different calibers (and was raised around all kinds of guns), but I still can't tell the fuckin difference just from listening. Normally I can at least tell the difference between a .22 lr and a 12 gauge shotgun, but, as tonight proves, when gripped in mass hysteria, sometimes I can't even tell the difference between a firecracker and a gunshot. Sucks when you realize your mind can be as weak and suggestible as everyone else's.
You need to learn to tell the different calibers by the screams then. It doesn't require such a discerning ear.
When I lived in Detroit, I could tell whether someone got stabbed with a knife or some other sharp object by sound. You listen for the amount of "oh shits!", various other cussing, moans, crying, etc.
The easiest one was the guy that got in a fight with his brother-in-law, and got stabbed with one of those long rotisserie stakes you put in a grill.
Some comments:
"Damn brotha!! You gots a stake in yer chest...when's the shish-kabob done?"
"Hollleee shiyat...nig*** is tryin to BBQ hisself."
Another reason I'll never move back.