[Front Yard Ballas] Notorious Mario!

What's your In-Game name?: I'm hoping it will be [FYB]Pimp
What were your previous name's/accounts and/or Gang/Faction's?: TDF.. I'm a total gang hopper for this but I promise I'll devote my time to this. I'm sorry Black, but I'm really confident this will go well.
What's the name of the Gang/Faction your Applying to be Leader of?: [FYB]
If you are in the Gang/Faction, how long are you in it?: N/A
If you are in the Gang/Faction, what's your rank in it?:N/A
Is this Gang/Faction active or in-active?: In-active.
Why do you want to lead it?: I want to try leading something. I'd like to see how my advanced roleplay skills effect the long term success of this gang. If this goes well, this will be my home. I'd love to bring the Ballas back to life.
Do you have any members, ready to make Official members if your App. gets Accepted?: No, but I should attract some.
Any other comments?: I'm sorry Black, but please support me. I'll be turning the gang around a little, maybe adding a few twists.

Here's a brief background on my character.


The night was young, the air was crisp, the dogs where barking. The typical night in Idlewood, was about to become quite the perplexing story.

Carl walked up onto the sidewalk, as he lifted up his black bandanna, wiping the perspiration off his forehead, as he let out a loud sigh. He looked left, then right, then dashed down the street, in an almost frantic type of motion. He was running down the street, then turned around to the corner to see a man holding a weapon. His eyes almost glazed over, until he took another look, as he saw the gun was aimed towards his own mother. He was shaking, time almost froze, as he ran towards the man, the man pulled the trigger. The body fell like a rock, as he ran towards the body, he clutches near the cardiac area, he behan crying. He almost didn't believe what he was experiencing, the blood ran between his index finger.. the rain was pouring, he looked down the street. He saw absolutely nothing. Carl ran up the stairs to the house, as he watched from his bedroom, his mothers rotting corpse being taken away like it was just excess garbage, just like it was an animal. The feeling was.. empty, nothing was left. Carl got bitter, and then started committing crimes. He doesn't, or didn't care about anything. He doesn't let the pain leave him, almost like an emotional scar that doesn't heal over time.

Over time, the memory glossed over and his objective was simple: Cash money.