Writing is a passion deep inside of me caged up so anxious to be released, words not spoken can’t feed a thirsty mind waiting to eat, so I’ve decided to speak to the ones that wanna be fed instead of holding these thoughts inside my head. You see my vision of happiness was chasing money, being a drug seller or a gun runner any thing to keep my pockets full I did for the capital, at sixteen I was shot twice, took two for the team,but in the emergency room I lay there like damn all this for that cream, I was too blind to see what the pursuit of currency was doing to me, At this time I should of realised I was on the wrong path to the riches, in the E R undergoing surgery and getting stitches, I walk around with a bullet to this day, but to me for that cash its a small price to pay, even out the hospital doors I’m on the phone trying to make my money soar,blinded to what this game had in store. Cars jewelry ,stick up kids trying to do me, groupies on line trying to screw me,living life like a movie,no script no actors,real men of my stature didn’t surrender the thought of possessing that legal tender, Celebrity stats fully auto gats cause me to wear kevlar on my back,32 shot clips, stash box in whips, blinding light in rear to disappear when danger was near.
It was a catastrophic curriculum where I’m from in the slums to sell drugs and bust guns cause of the fear of being bums, isolated from the real world we continued the life style that we knew bangn and hanging in our housing vestibule living life by our rules advice by others not needed and when it was given it wasn’t heeded, now I got cash but time has taken precious things from me, friends I rolled with and shared my bliss most are dead and so dearly missed, it is what it is I can’t change what was written this game is full of snakes and even the strongest get bitten, bad decisions in search of fame in this game will leave u lifeless, well I was smart and decisive in a game that’s as cold as is, fun in this life didn’t last for some,was like speedn in a car till It ran out of gas to them, my tank was always full and I kept a chauffeur, living the life of la castro nostra. Inner city kids in an inner city struggle with no direction, just the ghettos reflection of kids needing attention. time has passed by so fast just like most of the guys I lost in this oppression , I continue to live life with the few that are still alive, for different goals we strive, no more fast life were taking slow strides no more funerals to make moms and wives cry, all I wanted was not to be poor, not to have my friends sent early knockn on heavens door. The choices that are made as a kid sometimes devastate us as adults,so I want the youth to see that the game is really fantasy! So those that looked up to me in the streets, I want them to continue to look up to me but for something positive, not cause the life I lived. So I ll share my scars, my losses and my bad choices to enlighten a few on what this game will bring. the street history is a story of destruction, corruption, a pattern of misery. At 38 Im still feeling the wrath of that passed life I lived in,waiting anxiously for a few to b e released from prison 17. 20. 40 year bids for things we did as kids. the game ended for me and a few,but there’s still those to have to see there sentence through. U know how sad is to see the children of my fallen soldiers grow up with out a father. My father died when I was twelve and so did my childhood, So there outlook on life to me is very sadly understood.
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