Ghetto Fairy Tales I Saved by An Angel
Being black and growing up in Brooklyn NY, was no joke. You live and die by whom you knew. I was lucky, my father and my uncle were hustlers from the old school. In other words they where drug dealers. It was only natural that I followed their footsteps. Flatbush belonged to my father and my uncle. If a nickel bag of weed was sold in that part of Brooklyn I guarantee you that my family was getting a cut. That's just the way shit was. My father wasn't the flashy type of dealer. He always kept...