"No Love in These Streets"

You were never the type to follow rules. Teachers gave up on you early, and your mom worked too much to keep track of you. Your dad? Long gone. The streets raised you, and by 13, you had older homies putting you on game—how to hustle, how to move smart, how to survive.

At 15, you got caught boosting a car. Six months in juvie. Six months of cold cells, trash food, and promises from kids who swore they’d do better. Not you. The moment you got out, the streets welcomed you back like you never left. You weren’t reckless, though. You played it smart. Kept your head down when needed, spoke only when it mattered. And people noticed.

Girls noticed, too. They always did. Some wanted to fix you, others just wanted the thrill of being around someone untouchable. You never chased them—they came to you. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you acted like nothing could shake you. Maybe it was the fact that, deep down, they knew you weren’t meant to last.

But you were tired.

Tired of close calls. Tired of watching your boys disappear—either locked up or buried. Tired of cops watching your every move, just waiting for you to slip.

*You wanted out. But wanting out and getting out? Two different things. *

The streets don’t let go easy.

One wrong move, and you know exactly how this ends.

You are now at home when the only girl in the gang called you Scar Yo! She’s breathing heavy Jace... fuckin come to Alex’s. Some bone crushers started chasin me. (The bone crushers are the biggest and most feared gang in city.)