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Born and raised in California, I grew up in a military background household. I learned responsibility, discipline and independence from an early age and was taught to respect my elders. I didn't get many ass whooping growing up and was a straight A student all through school up until about the 9th grade.
My Mom had me at the tender age of fourteen and never once spoke about my dad. I just assumed this was normal and elected to define myself through my own personal endeavors. I had a step dad around, from about the age of four, but he wasn't shit. He made it clear I was his step son and I saw nothing in him I wanted to emulate. I spent the majority of my time reading books and fantasizing about one day being rich.
I was always trying to think of ways to make money, slanging everything from brownies my Mom made to bmx parts. This was the innocents stage of my hustling, before my Mom got a divorece and had to move me to the hood. A single mother with three kids is no joke. My mom worked two jobs to put food on the table and still came up short at times. The last straw for me was when I woke up one Christmas morning with my little brother and sister and there was no tree or gifts. I had been eyeing the dope game for a while and knew that few guys at my high school got their slang on and stayed with knot in their pocket. I actually lived on the dope street, so it wasn't like I had to walk far to make it happe.
I was fourteen years young and the brother's with jerry curls and perms, pushing old school rides on Dayton's was who I idolized. I wanted to be like them in a fat whip, with the beat, nice clothes and women. All I need was a few rocks and it was on. It didn't take me long to turn my twenty dollar double up into three hundred dollars. While my Mom was at work, I would take care of my little brother and sister, do my homework, then hit the block for a couple of hours. I went from recycling last year's fashion, to Fila, Triple Goose and Rolex watches. Extra money would mysteriously appear in my Mom's purse to hepl pay for bills and instead of just eating Top Ramen and grill chesse every day, we had the occasional steak or chicken. The money came fast and I eas soon making almost a grand a week. People in the neighborhood knew who I was and I became a reputable factor. Living this kind of lifestyle at such a young age created an addiction to fast money that was hard to shake.
With the dope game though, there's always a flip side and eventually I got caught up fucking with the homies. It's hard to be a good judge of character when you're dealing crack. I was fifteen and had to muscle up in juvenile hall and do six months. I say muscle up, because if you were soft, you got played like a punk. During this time, my Mom met another guy, a white cat she would eventually marry becoming step-dad number two. After six months of hell, any innocence I may have had in me had long been left behind. Being around nothing but gangbangers and knuckleheads had made a nigga hard. I had no time to be weak of feel sorry for myself.
I was released back into my Mom's custody and we moved to Huntington Beach shortly thereafter. My new step-dad had gotten stationed in sunny Southern Calfornia, the city of beaches and surfing. I was in for a total culture shock. I had already been through gladiator school, made thousands selling rock cocaine, had sex with multiple females and now I was smack dab in the middle of square central. The majority of the guys at the school had never even seen a real pussy, let alone had their dick sucked. Iwas the darkest out of the four black students attending a predominately all white high school and I had a rough edge about me, which made it hard for me to fit in.