Slow L was marked by death at a young age when his stepfather is murdered and mother shot down in front of him. Eight years passed and still trying to outdistance this tragedy but haunted by it every step of the way. Lack of trust made him jump off the porch a little sooner than most kids. Once he learned the Milwaukee streets had real people that acted in the form of animals and orangutans among the living, he knew then he needed to adapt to the Mil-jungle, or get peeled, or eaten alive. Nobody was to be trusted—not a priest, not the police, not his childhood friends, or closest relatives. They made him a gangsta with no explanation as to why.
