“Back in ’85, we all hustled. In this neighborhood, men were resistant and too prideful to work a nine to five job. One, they didn’t pay shit. Two, we didn’t want to work for the white-man. We saw this as a return to some form of slavery.
It’s no excuse. But, hustling in a system built to keep us down was seen as a dignified way for us to maintain our manhood. We needed financial stability the fastest way we knew how, The Hustle.
Hustles varied from robbing, drug dealing, conning and pimping. Pimping, to me, was the way to go. You had the money, the women, the clothes. All of which I earned without violence; instead, through respect. I wasn’t like the other guys who made fun of me. I respected my three working girls. We were a team.
I had my own style. There were bigger pimps. The ones who dressed fancy, had the nice cars and plenty of girls. I had my three working girls. It’s hard for outsiders to understand. We actually had a mutual relationship. They wanted to work and I was willing to work them. They wanted the money and needed a protector. I was their protector. It was all new to me. I built a system and had them follow it. When they got home they were to put my money on the dresser. I wasn’t like the other pimps who’d abuse or get rid of their girls when they weren’t useful to them. I was working with morals.
I grew up in a Christian household. God bless my mother, she is 89-years-old. She’d constantly try to instill Christian values in me. I could say this now, there was a point when I was pimping these girls that I was lost. The influence of the ’80s. The easy access to drugs. It was the cocaine epidemic. The openness to prostitution. Everything came so easy. It was hard to say no. One day, I had a change of heart.
At this point, I had lost two girls. They didn’t want to work anymore. I respected that. My last girl, my down girl, she always made the most money. I started to fall in love with her. One day she came home, all drugged up, eyes shut, leaning, slowly walking towards the dresser to place my money. I thought ‘if my mother saw this.’ I began to judge myself. I felt terrible. I was disgusted. I told her:
“Today is your last day. We shouldn’t be doing this.” My morals kicked in.
I would advice parents, to instill values to their children. If your child gets off track, just know those morals, values, lessons will always be in hindsight. And, those morals have the power to bring them back home.
In general, I’d like to say everything you do, whatever it is, do it with respect. Respect yourself first and you’ll be able to give respect. Although, I didn’t have a conventional job, I did it with respect and with morals. Respect the game. Respect the hustle. Respect others. Respect You.”
Thank You and much respect for your Bendición of realness Cap