Growing up in America — especially in the Newark, New Jersey projects — the gangster lifestyle is sort of forced onto you. I grew up looking up to gangsters. On TV it was gangsters like Al Capone and John Gotti. On the streets it was the Big Homies that ran the gang. I felt that was my calling. I wanted that status. I wanted to be the bad guy. I didn’t know any other way.
Of course I knew people that worked regular jobs — some at factories, some at better places. But I considered them also part of the lifestyle, because living in Fairview Homes when Crazyville and Little Bricks was still open, you had to stay dangerous or stay in the house. It seemed like everyone was a part of a clique. S**t, even my grandfather was a Free Mason. Everyone knows it’s strength in numbers. Anyway, back then the streets had a code. Even though we were outlaws, we still honored the law of the streets.
I remember it used to be exciting, meeting new homies and going to different projects to get money with niggas. Back then, jail added to your reputation — especially if you went in for participating in some gangster activity and didn’t tell. You would be the man when you got home.
Well let me tell you, those days are over! The game has changed. Nas is weird, in jail and out. In jail, niggas will tell on you for an extra tray of state food. Just imagine what they would do for their freedom. It is not the 90’s or early 2000’s anymore. Niggas is not your homies. They will backdoor you just because they want to f**k your girl. The only code niggas live by is the cheat codes on GTA.
Now that I’m older and wiser, I realize how I was led astray — how we was made to think we was winning when in reality we was just digging our own graves and spinning our wheels in the mud of ignorance. It’s hard to come to that realization though. To realize you were a sucker in a losing game.
The odds was stacked against us and we went and stacked them shit higher. I could blame America for allowing all of our true Black leaders to be killed and replaced with Uncle Toms. Or I could blame the generation before me that allowed me to follow in their footsteps. I could even go as far as blaming God for not letting me be born to a rich family in Denmark somewhere. Instead, I’m going to blame myself, because I knew better.
At the end of all those movies, either the gangsters get killed or go to jail. In real life, all the gangsters I know are either dead, in one of these prisons located around America, or working the same regular jobs we’ve been trying to escape — and they all have criminal histories, so leveling up is almost impossible. I’m 39 years old — in gangster years that’s almost 70. I’m lucky to have made it this far.
The streets is wicked. If you are a parent of a YN, grab him and show him what true love and guidance is. Make sure he understands that the same people that will shoot for you will sometimes be the same ones to shoot at you. Let them know that it’s nothing gangster about having a felony and sitting in here arguing over phones and TV shows. Take them on trips and let them see how regular people behave outside of the hood. How fighting is frowned upon.
We need to get the next generation ready for life, not ready to do life. Please, I’m begging you, tell them the truth about the streets. Let them know that it’s easier to become an NBA star than it is to become a successful kingpin. Let them know most of the plugs out there are rats. Let them know you love them and just want them to Move Smart and Stay Free.
-TJ
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