Sirens and lights rang and flashed through my city all day every day. My name is Rahkil and I’m going to teach you my story. I’m 13 years old, born the first and last child of Phasche and Syaud. For the first time, I was going to meet my father 3 months ago he was Upstate New York in prison. When I went to visit his cell-block was on lock-down. My mother is independent and she avoids any use of welfare so she makes a living “trafficking.” I live in Newark NJ born at UMDNJ Feb, 3, 1999 my mother doesn’t remember the exact time.

Being in the gang or affiliated with drugs wasn’t something I chose, as you can see I was born into it. Momma told me why my father was incarcerated, he was charged with unlawful possession and he had a drug charge. He was locked up 2 months prior to my birth, this left momma on her own and stressing. Momma didn’t come home until she sold a hundred a night which means she made 1,000 dollars daily. She also had a part-time job at the social security office in my town this might sound preposterous but we were satisfied, I mean we didn’t have to want for anything.

Living in this society, it’s hard to choose and when it comes to it you have the streets or broke. As time progressed living both worlds of a hustler and business person started messing up momma’s life. She spent 6 months in Delaney Hall after the state ran down on her block. Momma wasn’t even out their but somehow, somebody got bagged and started confessing to the Feds. Luckily, Momma didn’t have any drugs on her because she would have been facing 2-5 years. While momma was away I stayed at my grand-dads house in Perth Amboy, where I actually started to live the struggle.

That time flew by but the outcome left me living an actual hell. I was proud to see my momma we stayed at grad-dads for a while, she was jobless, and she got turned down because she had felonies. It was school time and I attended Sayreville Middle which was 20 minutes away. Grand-dad was stressing because he didn’t know his baby (daughter) sold drugs. He kept worrying and he soon passed away. Other family tried to pinch in and help but this just wasn’t enough to maintain the house.

We moved into the YMCA and was now living off of Food Stamps. Momma said she could have never pictured this day would come, she blamed this on my father. In school, I got teased because of my tacky clothes. I wore FUBU while these kids was able to afford True Religion and Polo. These words taunted and provoked me to do something I shouldn't have.

Sooner or later I came to see school was never for me so I dropped out. It dawned on me that my whole life kids my age always seemed to look up to me, I was mature. What I didn't know was that momma had 50,000 dollars in the bank for me to got to college but since I dropped out so early she used it to move us up to Newark. We moved on South Orange Avenue in one of those town house with the floors that was impossible to walk on without making any screech. It was a 3-bedroom apartment so she had money left over and decided to buy her-self a hoop die which was loud as 1million elephants and other wild heavy animals when she started it. Momma couldn't quite fathom why I was reluctant to attend school, so she left me on my own. I still lived under her roof, but I had to provide for myself.

In the streets there is no motivation and its where and why I stress the most. I was known all over as "Lil Phasce," or "Lil Syaud," and known as the child of hustlers. What people didn't know was that I was left on my own. Before I kept the latest J's I sometimes even had them 3 days before they dropped. In my neighborhood there are gangs where they smoke, fight, drink and just do unproductive things. This was the only thing "popping," going on and I was brainwashed to think this was the life-style I wanted.