Waka Flocka Flame 🔥

This picture says a lot about where I’m at. Standing in the middle, trying to stay whole, while life pulls at me from both sides.

Man, it’s eating me up inside knowing I can’t help everybody I love. Some of the people closest to me are pulling from me, and I don’t think they understand how much it’s tearing me down.

The little things count in my life. How you treat me counts. How I feel counts. Feeling appreciated counts. Hearing words of affirmation counts. You being the best version of yourself counts. You sleeping on your abilities, knowing how incredible you are, counts too. It hurts watching people I love give up on themselves.

And it hurts feeling like none of that matters to you when it weighs so much on me. I’m trying to stay whole, but it’s hard letting go of what’s pulling me apart when I love the people attached to it.

At the same time, I have the best woman, the most beautiful baby, and a strong Black family that I’m proud of. Mentally, financially, and spiritually, I’m at the highest point of my life. So much is going right. And I’m grateful for every bit of it. But that doesn’t erase what hurts.

People close to me are dealing with health problems, and knowing I can’t fix everything they’re going through is heavy. Man, it’s a lot to carry.

Then I step on that stage and give y’all my all. Because right there, with my fans, is one of the places I feel the most joy.

So to all my fans, thank y’all. Every time you come to a show, you truly don’t understand what you’re giving me.

It’s not what’s going in my pocket. It’s y’all filling up my soul.

Something ain’t sitting right with me, man. I catch myself thinking, who really want control of this country? Then I look around and see us arguing with our own neighbors like they the ones calling the shots. We know exactly who made us mad today. Do we know who benefits from us staying mad tomorrow?

Random Gemini thoughts. ♊️

I’m an ’80s baby. I wish some of these kids could’ve seen the America I remember growing up. Man, I remember people being proud to come here because of what freedom meant to them. And I remember being able to disagree with somebody and still speak when you saw ’em the next day. That little bit of respect meant something.

When you mad enough, somebody can point you in any direction and tell you that’s who you mad at. That’s what get me. Between the propaganda, the outrage, the riots, and the way grown folks act when somebody disagree with ’em, when do we ever sit still long enough to ask what’s being pushed on us?

Music was fun when clubs/parties was dancing… bring back dancing to the party