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rancho dreamin

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  1. Chapter 03: Today? Holy fuck. Today I was bold, real fucking bold.. It's been two days and I still haven't got my second airpod and I don't care how much it costed me, I wanted MY SHIT BACK.. I don't usually go real direct with it but I was tired and frustrated with listening to music in one ear and I wasn't gonna look like a whole ass punk in front of the group, So I got my other earbud from Terror and the last piece was with this guy named Jumper right? I spent two days looking for him whenever I had the chance and tl;dr I approached him, the didn't want to give it back so I ran fade and he got the message, cool.
  2. Chapter 03: So I'm just chilling right? I just got my spliff going and I'm vibing with the Virgin Mary when I see a group of peeps pull up and take my earbuds, they start pressing me and I was not about to look like a bitch in front of all of them, I was real terrified doe.. Anyways we hit the pavement and this dude fucks me up but respects the fact I didn't pussy out so there's that.
  3. Is there something wrong with me? Chapter 01: Fuck me man, I spent my fair share touring around hoods in Los Santos and I think a lot of them aren't as bad as you think they are and for a foster kid in the system getting replaced every single fucking year, I'm really use to a lot of middle class homes and occasionally the lower class but holy fuck my new placement is in the most sketchiest area in all of Davis, Rancho WHATEVER... Uh, apart from the occasional tweaker, it isn't half bad in the morning but as soon as rush hour hits in the afternoon? Bro... the whole hood is out, ten deep and they don't usually mess around with me but occasionally start small talk, I'm new to the neighborhood so I bet seeing new faces isn't real nice. I guess the best part of being in the neighborhood is the fact that they are la raza, Messican and what not so I don't feel as excluded.. Chapter 02: I mean fuck the hood for a second, let's kick back so you can get a load of where I'm coming from. I'm a Mexican-American born in Vespucci to a low/mid-class family but growing up it was hard as an only child and my parents were fucking dicks so the San Andreas Department of Social Services declared I would be sent in as "Emergency" Foster Home placements because my parents were not fulfilling my needs for food, a clean living environment, or emotional well-being. How is that even fucking possible? Whatever.. To take my mind off how shitty my life is, I am an avid skater, schemer, and biker. I spent my whole damn childhood at skate parks so it gradually started to become a hobby of mines. I gotta say the neighborhood is pretty fucking dope for skating if you are versatile with the board but does that outweigh the scary motherfuckers that live here and have to deal with my annoying ass creeping every day? I don't know bout that one doe.
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