Trapped in the Hustle

Love was not found. Every night you hear screams and cries telling the one who is supposed to love you the most to stop. Going to sleep for years left with bruises and scratches. Fed up and exhausted, decided one day to pack and planned on never coming back.

Went on the streets, got put onto GD. After that there was never no coming back. Fell in love with the streets, got addicted to money, felt almost as if I was trapped in the hustle.

On the block flippen rocks and sacks, having to watch my back and pray that the feds don’t try to come back.

Fifteen with a baby boy with the man I loved who rode through thick and thin. Not even two months old, baby taken into heaven.

After that, I was back selling anything I could to make a couple racks. Every day is a risk. Walking through the hood, sippen on some henny, a gold car pulled up on me and the homies saying where you from. Fear pumped in us. They threatened us. Two hours later black car pulls up with a gun hangin out the window. Turn around and see everyone but one duck and fall on the ground. Loud shots, shells bouncing, baby dad trying to pull me to him. Everyone was okay.

I told myself it’s time to slow down. When baby dad went to jail I promised to hold him down enough money. Situation at the hotel, I knew it was going to be bad. Now I’m stuck with nothing, hoping my man will come get me out so I can go be on my way to a better route and be there when he get out. Hopefully get on a road to success and never be back behind a cell.