Peep the game. You got a big heart, and the streets will bleed it dry if you let ’em. You see somebody struggling and your first instinct is to reach out, to pull ’em up. But you gotta ask yourself: are they reaching for your hand, or are they tryna pull you down into the mud with them? This ain’t about being cold, this is about being wise to the hustle. Lames have weaponized weakness. They use their sob stories and never-ending crises like a smokescreen, making you feel guilty for your success while they drain your pockets, your time, and your damn spirit. They’re not looking for a solution; they’re looking for a host. And you, with your ambition and your drive, look like a five-star meal.
Understand this: a real one who’s down on their luck is looking for a rope, not an anchor. They take the advice, they use the resources, and they get back on their grind. The sympathy vampire is different. They get high off your concern. You give them a plan, they give you an excuse. You give them a loan, they come back with another tragedy next week. Your wins make them uncomfortable, and your problems make them feel powerful. You’re building an empire, and they’re a permanent resident in a kingdom of pity. You can’t finance their dysfunction with your focus. Every minute you spend refereeing their circus is a minute you’re not spending on your own throne.
So how do you spot the con? Look at the patterns, not the performance. Is every conversation a crisis report? Do they ghost you when things are good and only pop up when they need something? Do they get angry or passive-aggressive when you celebrate your wins? That ain’t a friend, that’s a liability. A real partner in your circle wants to see you eat because they’re busy cooking up their own meal. A lame wants to eat off your plate forever because they’re too lazy to even light the stove. Stop making excuses for them. The signs are there, but you’re too busy being ‘loyal’ to read ’em.
Here’s the raw truth: self-preservation is the first law of the hustle. You can’t save nobody who enjoys drowning. Your energy is your currency, and you’re lettin’ these emotional bandits rob you blind. It’s time to close the account. It ain’t your job to fix broken people who refuse to pick up the tools. Your mission is to build, to win, to elevate. And you can’t do that with a team of professional victims on your payroll. Cut ’em off. Not with hate, but with the cold, hard clarity that your peace is more valuable than their performance. Protect your throne at all costs.
