Dear esther

laying there... With the knife in my stomach. I knew, i was about to die. I don't know why i was suspecting my father to rescue me. I was realizing i had being looking for him all my life. This is my search. We start at the beginning, my mom. That was the happy days. Problem was, everybody was in love with my mom. So everybody could be my dad. One thing i was certain of. I didn't have a white daddy. And he was sure as hell, he wasn't a cop. Black or white. I spend a lot of time with my grandmother. That was a crowded house with eight people's mouths to feed. Not including me. My brother deuce was the biggest and the meanest. I knew my mother sold drugs. But that didn't mean nothing to me but good sneakers and school clothes. She always made sure i had the best of everything. She thing is parents thing you see nothing, but in reality you see everything. don't yesterday As I grew older, began the streets and the city life to be more interesting for me then school and education. As the school began to fade away i met girls one girl in particular got my interest Charlene was her name. I wrote her songs and letters. Charlene's stepdad sent he away to live with her grandparents. I was broken into my all into core. My mom was supposed to pick me up that night. But she never arrived. Neighbors said they heard voices raised in a jealous rage. Soon after that, the dogs were heard barking. And after that flames where seen coming through the window. It was hard to plan my own mother's funeral at this age. I was wondering whether my father would show up to the funeral. Maybe even her killer. For all i knew they were the same person. And i began to think it was time to join the family "business". I needed a gun to be in the "business" more then two days. (A few years past) after Tupac, everyone wanted to be a gangster rapper. And if Tupac wasn't dead, deuce's rapping would've killed him. My stepdad had the suspicion that i was on drugs, but the truth is that i have never taken drugs. In our "business" we have a saying for it "you don't shit were you eat". He didn't find the drugs, he found the gun he was yelling, why do you have this! over and over again. So i ran away to a place i could be alone, this meant in my case, the streets... I wasn't thinking straight when i went back to school that afternoon. They found coke on me, and i was set free immediate because of a bale of 500$ that was what i was worth. "Only 500 bucks" i was thinking to myself. After i came out i bought my own place, a little compound building but it was mine. So now i had my own space... And i could concentrate on my dream of being a rapper. After three hours, i gave up my career as a rapper. And went back to selling coke. The thing of being a coke dealer on the corner. It was lousy pay. And if you added up all the hours and time spent waiting around. It was like minimum wage. And if you added in the time you were likely to spend in prison. It was less than minimum wage. But then, one day. everything changed. everybody had their own territory. Ours was right next to the Colombians. And there i made a crew dedicated to one thing