Soul Ties To A Hood Rich Thug: A Boss and His B*tch

“I come from a family of true hustlers and real steppas. My fatha is black and my Muva is black and Cuban. They got together and made a DC Monster and named me Brasi. I grew up listening to my grandMuva tell me stories about how my grandfatha in Cuba used to bring bricks of coke to the US on boats. They used to praise him for what he did for the family. Now my fatha was like a God in the streets. We used to post up on the block in NW, and I would sit in my fatha chevy and weigh out weed and coke to serve the fiends.

By the age of 12, I was already knee-deep in the game, following in my fatha’s footsteps. School was just a pit stop. I juggled books and the block with equal proficiency. By that time, my fatha was trying to do bigger things off the block, and he ended up getting life in prison. I stepped up to fill his shoes, being the oldest dropped out of school to keep the lights on for my motha and brovas, Mazi and Khazi. While on the block passing time, I was freestyling with my partnas, and I was too nice! I started to get into the booth, dropping mixtapes doing local shows, they knew that I lived what I rapped about.

By the time I was grown, I controlled the streets. I was living good. I had my family living good. It wasn't anybody around that could touch my coke or my weed. I thought I had everything I needed until I met Indie. That girl was something different. Even tho I had a girl at home, I couldn’t leave her alone. She gave me something I didn’t know I needed. Some might have called us toxic, but hey, what we had going worked for us. She was my lover, homie, and best friend.

To understand me and Indie, I gotta take you back to the beginning….”