Pour it Up (Urban)

C H A P T E R I : Introduction

[SATIN]

I've never been the type of bitch to be regular. I've always had to have the nicest shit on the block, even if it meant strugglin' to get it. Image is EVERYTHING to me. I guess you could say I have champagne taste, and before King of Diamonds I literally had beer money.

Living in the hood was no joke. I deadass was born into a world of chaos. My mother and father traveled to America from Trinidad only to be seduced by drugs and the streets. The day my mother died is also the day my dad decided to bail out on me- go figures. By age six, less than three weeks later I was placed into the system to fend for my own. My life had fallin' to pieces, and as to every hood wise story, I guess at a young age I had to wise up and see a silver lining to my tragedy.

My foster family was a product of the hood, they did everything from petty theft, to drug dealin'. Most of the women in my family were either prostitutes or strippers, I seriously only remember about three female cousins going off to college and graduating, and becoming lawyers or some shit, either way that just wasn't in the cards; especially for me.

My foster mother Ilene, taught me how to respect myself, While my dad, Jose Santana taught me how to make sure these nigga's never conned me, while it was my aunt Remy who taught me all that plus more. As I got older Remy taught me how to . . . . .how can I put it? "Satisfy the hustla' in my stomach." By her case, and in layman's terms she meant "to take care of my needs by using my beauty to get what I want."

It's crazy how Aunt R. was this woman of so much knowledge, who had graduated from an university, and yet stripped down at the local strip-club. I would remember this one story she'd always tell me,

"I think of the gorgeous, exotic, Jamaican stripper I met once, she was telling me, "I love my family, money, and lastly men. Family, Money, Men, and I fear no man, but god. That's me."

I mean it's not a story, but it's a lovely life motto. Anyway, I'm babbling and should really shut up 'cause I tend to get hella' carried away with my past life, so before I bore you, let me stop here and hand the story over to a young, black female, who can take you on a trip to the hood playground and can express it better with all that intellegent word play shit y'all like, while still keepin' it raw. Ladies & Gent's please give it up for Miss. RimaSantana!

Pour It Up.