What I Learned From Jail

Only a hustler will recognize a hustler when they see one…we do that by observing what they eat. 

I used to criticize the people who could live off baloney or peanut butter sandwiches because I didn’t comprehend where they came from.  When I was released from jail, I came out with a different mindset on nutrition. 

In jail:

A packet of peanut butter costs $1,

A packet of mayonnaise is .89 cents,

A pack of tuna is $2,

A pack of ramen noodles costs a $1. 

In the real world:

A jar of peanut butter can be found for $1.25.

Packets of mayonnaise are free at Publix. 

A pack of tuna--the same price, but it’s the cheapest food with one of the best nutritional contents. 

& we could get a box of ramen noodles, with 12 packets, for close to $3. 

With that being said, if I had to eat like an inmate to be able to save money, I would do it— but it’s not a diet I would implement for the long term.  It’s important to control sodium and carb intake especially when it comes to cheap food-- that's why some of you motherfuckers don't shit or even act right.  When we’re living on the street, some of us have to resort to EBT.  & One of the disadvantages which come from using EBT would be the fact we can’t buy hot meals, so we usually have to resort to cold cut meats and canned foods (unless we have a kitchen to cook our meals with).  

We won’t be impressed when a hustler lives off just ramen noodles because if anyone has common sense, we know too much of something is always bad for us.  The drive of a hustler derives from his ability to survive during hard times and they don’t always come from jail or the streets-- that's if they’re lucky and humble enough.  They could learn from other peoples experiences— but the majority of them, unfortunately, don't, and come from the depths of the gutter.

When I was in jail I realized something…

I realized the significance of minor details: 

Keeping Our Nails Trimmed:  When I realized people were always looking for problems, it was important for me to stay in the right frame of mind and body because at any point in time, I could be engaged in an altercation which could probably escalate into a fight.  People protect themselves in all types of different ways.  I noticed how one dude I was beefing with kept his nails long.  He didn't look like he could fight, he seemed more like someone who took short cuts-- so I'm thinking he kept his nails long so he could poke an eye out.  To me, though, keeping his nails long seemed like a liability because if I had gotten in a fight with them, I would’ve figured out a way to snap them off the bed of his fingers.  Our toes and finger nails should always be trimmed short to avoid those kinds of injuries because that would make us prone to weakness and even disease.  With an open wound in jail, there’s no saying how soon we could catch something because of contact with contaminated surfaces and people.  The only time we get to use a nail trimmer is when we’re out in the yard…IF they even have one…and we have to wait in line to use it.  So to me, it was important to keep my nails trimmed or try my best avoiding confrontation.

Washing Our Boxers: People eventually get annoyed when the person they’re roomed with, or next to, smell like pure ass.  It makes us unapproachable and it could grow into a problem.  It’s important to not only wash our ass everyday, but also to make sure we keep our drawers and uniform clean so no one complains like a little bitch about us.  I remember people always had a problem with my BO, and that was something beyond my control, but nobody ever had a problem with me cause I always did what I could and kept my fucking mouth shut.

Conserving Energy: When I was locked up, I started to learn that it wasn’t important to maintain my endurance, it was all about strength and weight-class.  The biggest nigga in the room is the most respected because that shows they eat well in jail.  I made the mistake of jogging it up around the basketball court anytime we went to the yard and quickly realized I was burning more calories than I would take in.  I came in at 156lbs.  By the time I was released I was weighing nearly 142lbs.  If I would’ve been locked up a little longer, I don’t think I would’ve won my first fight— and trust me— I was damn near close to getting jumped.  As strong as I thought I was (cause I reached 300 push ups in a session one day— approaching 400), I wouldn’t’ stand a chance against an upper weight class, even if it was by 5 pounds.  There was a time when I almost got into a fight with someone who weighed 230lbs….a big motherfucker…and I’m glad I did everything I could to avoid getting hit.  If no one is helping us with commissary, we’re forced to resort to hustling in the open Bay Area through a barter system, doing favors, or saving our meals and eating them in bulk.  

G's Move in Silence: There were many, many times where I didn’t feel like talking to people.  Most of the time my silence was able to get the best of them, but there were some who would get on my damn nerves because they had a problem with the fact I didn’t want to speak with them.  The quieter we are in jail, the less of a chance we have of starting beef with someone and escalating a fuckin’ problem.  That includes the principle of ‘no snitching.’  When someone was smoking K2 in the back of the room, I would turn my fucking head because they were part of a gang-- I knew better.  When someone would bump into my bunk every 10 minutes while I was sleeping to wake me up, I kept my mouth shut because I knew my fucking place.  Cause once we form an allegiance with a gang, there's no way to avoid the kinds of favors they would force us to do.  At the end of the day, my silence drew a statement of my character and I was able to build strength through that one virtue.  That’s not to say that we shouldn't…

Speak Up When the Time Calls: If someone is stepping all over you, you have to say something.  Even if it means getting into a fight.  That’s the only time I believe it’s worth talking.  If some gay motherfucker keeps on trying to grind up against you while you’re waiting in line for your medication or for your food, sometimes it’s best to cock back and slap the shit out of that motherfucker.  If someone is giving you shit because you’re taking too long on the phone, it’s best to slap that motherfucker.  & Most importantly, if you’re about to get jumped by a fucking gang, and you’re not part of any gang, it’s imperative to check out.  It’s time to switch your cell-block…because that’s the difference between getting killed and making it out alive. 

Check out my example of the day: A Mother speaks out after her son is beaten to death by a cellmate at the Broward County Jail. 

 Apparently, according to a confession by the inmate, ‘he told deputies he attacked [Said Victim] because he was gay and because he didn’t clean himself.’  

The problem wasn’t that the dude was gay, the problem was that he didn’t clean himself and the issue probably escalated to a point where everyone was complaining about it, and then someone took it upon themselves to enforce.  As sad as it may seem, these things happen all the fucking time and it’s no fucking surprise to people who are part of that environment.  Nobody gives a shit.  Once you committed a crime and get locked up, time stops, our liberties are taken, and it’s up to the criminal to bid their time and make it out alive-- by any fucking means...whether it's by being a bitch or by being a boss.

That’s why some of the most highly regarded gangsters are considered one of the most respected hustlers in the game. 

But it’s a different ball-game when we’re in this world.  It’s a violent...brutal fucking world.  

My experience in jail serves as a reminder to always do my best because I’m always one step away from getting locked up.  You know what that step is?  Getting fucking high.  If I were to get high right now…one slip in my decision-making is the difference between me serving a significant amount of time in prison or dying on the fucking street.  I can’t do it anymore.  I like being out here in the real world: 

I like being able to control when I trim my fucking nails.  I don’t want to have to worry about those kinds of injuries.

I don’t have a problem eating cheap food because at least I get to work for it. 

I learned that I have the power to stick to myself, the power to choose the kind of people I want to be associated with.

I don’t have to be the hardest nigga in the room when I’m living in freedom.  That’s all a facade...& It extends my life expectancy when I have the will to shut my fucking mouth even when the other person is wrong.  

Today, I’m grateful.  

I’ve been really upset about the issue regarding homelessness, but that’s only because I’ve been wanting to do things my way and get high.  I want to get fucking ZOOTED…ALL THE FUCKING TIME.  But it’s just not worth it right now.  I spent TOO much time in rehab with some dumbass people.  I’ve put a TON of effort into getting myself together building stability.  It’s important to the people who care about me that I stay on track right now.  When the time is right, I’ll be able to smoke a fat ass blunt…but it’s not now.  That shows I have a reservation to get high…but whatever.  "I don’t have to get high today."  That’s my mantra.  I don’t have to get high.  If I do it, the choice is going topple over all the progress I’ve made thus far.  I can’t forget what’s motivating me to stay on track…and I won’t say it, but deep in my heart, the reason is there.

Sometimes I dream about it.  Sometimes it’s all I think about.

I KNOW what it’s like to be in the depths of despair.  I know what it means to reach a life of pitiful incomprehensible demoralization.  I know what it’s like to be on my fucking knees begging people for money so I could eat and it’s the most degrading state of mind one we could be in.  

I forgot where I read or heard it but….being poor is a state of mind.  It really is.  When we don’t have anything left, it’s really hard not to be in that state of mind— but we only reach that level after living a life where all we do is make horrible fucking decisions.  If we keep living like shit, we’re gonna end up like shit.  If we make just ONE choice a day to be a bit better, then tomorrow we will be that much better-- Imagine what we could do if all our decisions were positive... The results might not present themselves overnight, but throughout the course of living that way, in which where we’re always making good decisions, we’re bound to see the fucking results.

I've spent three months getting it together...and I'm not about to throw it away because my fucking roommate won't stop snoring.  Fuck that guy.  Fuck everybody who I have a problem with.  Right now the only thing I have my focus on is taking it a day at a time, a moment at a time, and making sure I STAY FUCKING SOBER.  

FUCK JAIL.  

And #FREEKODAKBLACK, he's addicted to drugs, he shouldn't be in jail.