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detalhes

  • Nome Governo: Tewhan Butler
  • Registre Número: 26852-050
  • Idade:34
  • Time Served:11 anos
  • Home Town:East Orange, NJ
  • Sentença:30 anos.
  • Corrente de carga:RICO
  • Pseudônimo:Massacre
  • Data de Lançamento:2029
  • Afiliação prisão:Sangue (Duplo ii / QSBG)
  • Círculo de Influência:Altariq Gumbs, Emmanuel Jones, Lester Alford, Marco Miguel Robertson, Pele Brown, David Drone, Jermaine Ray, Marcus Martin, Michael Simpson, Omar Austin, Quaheem Edwards, Torvos Simpson, Vincent Gamboa
  • Instituição:USP McCreary
  • Aqui, minha vida atrás das grades oferece compreensão para aqueles de vocês que se aventuram 'a vida' sem compreensão de suas conseqüências: a adversidade, os obstáculos ea viagem é preciso viajar sozinho quando o martelo é batido, seu celular está bloqueado e as luzes se apagam.

Truth

Americas-Massacre-Tewhan-Butler

A moment of clarity. A moment of truth.

Certamente, you are not in need of my voice, as the truth stands on its own. Porém, some of you hear nothing unless it’s pumped into you, sort of like a shotgun blast of that official loud pack. The streets aint the same, and aint been so, since the paying of homage faded to black. Funny how it’s cool to rock that retro look, and sport throwback garb, but when it comes to honoring those who have paved the way, nobody remembers how. Everybody holding on to this belief that they are self-made. Too much Rosé minus the Maybach. A certified gangsta once told me, “the strong survive, and stand on their own two, thus and so, even the most reputable Gs understand they aint shit without their homeboys.” This self-made ideology that a man can do it all alone is the same falsehood which allows one to spit in the wind and leave a homeboy for dead. Either it’s the ducking of phone calls, the trying to fuck a comrade’s babymoms, or the ultimate, hittin’ that stand with trigga fingers pointing, but aint no guns blazing. Em vez, it’s testimony. Testimony that’s even deadlier than those hot ones. Did somebody tell you it was cool to be a hot boy? If your name aint Juvie, B.G. or Wayne, you got it all wrong. Yeah you know the type- those screaming “kill snitches” e “morte antes da desonra”- the same ones who aint sent they man shit since he fell.

I remember being criticized about my struggle to display trust in those who are deserving. Triste, mas é verdade, yet I’ve been scarred by the females yelling “para sempre” and the niggas hollering ” I’m riding.” Can’t count the times I’ve been looked in the eyes with that movie screen sincerity and was sold dreams. Wonder why I’m this way? Maybe it’s the repeated tune of deceit that pushes me to see everyday as a perpetual nightmare.

“You better watch those niggas that’s close to you.” I know you heard that before. Don’t ignore the signs. Don’t dismiss that uneasy feeling that overcomes you when the handshake don’t equal the smile. You aint looking for the truth. You’d rather I sold you a bag of “reggie” and told you it was a pound of kush.

“YOU CANT HANDLE THE TRUTH !” But as I said in the opening of this quest for truth: from where it derives is of the least importance. And that’s why I can’t help but laugh when I think of the words flowing from a white country girl turned pop star. You all know her well:

“SOMETIMES THE PEOPLE YOU’D TAKE
A BULLET FOR, ARE OFTEN THE
ONES BEHIND THE TRIGGER.”
–Taylor Swift

So to all you “street niggas” there’s a bit of truth from one you’d least expect . . . . Surprising, isn’t it? Just as surprising as those you believe are holding true to truth, but turn out to be nothing more than a chest full of lies.

  

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