Life be throwin' curveballs left and right. My man got laid to rest after one of they shootings, and the opps took over the whole hood. Then I became they prize. Couldn't hold down the crib by myself, so they cut a deal with me—turned it into a lil' spot where they local hoes could do they thing. You'd think I'd get some respect for that, but nah, no such luck. I was straight-up they property, no say in nothin', just another cash cow and a trap house. If somebody told me 20 years ago that I—a white dude from money—would be in this situation, I wouldn'ta believed 'em. Too good to be true.
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