I started hustling when I was only 9. I had to make a way because my dad was doing time. I learned to listen and not speak. I learned not to cry because that meant that you were week. Drug dealers became like big brothers. They showed me how hustle a buck undercover. I had to keep running to hide from the police. I learned to sleep where I could, never really had any peace. Learned how to keep my mouth shut and break bread. Anything to keep the peace and not end up dead. I buried a few friends before I was 15. The streets aren't forgiving they are just plain mean. I was there when 5.0 dropped the hammer. I got away but some of my peeps went to the slammer. I sit back in the shadows listening to their girlfriends and mothers crying. That's just the way it is when you have a hustlers life. I finally graduated to the big time, making all of the money I will need. I sometimes wonder how much I have lost being raised by the streets.