please comment critically and analytically

do you believe the story is compelling, suspensful,leaves you as the reader with a lesson or moral or feeling excited. how was the end and was the character interesting and engaging...i know its a bad story so dont worry about hurting my feelings. try responding like a critic.

Money in a Hole

In reality I dug this hole for myself. I saw my mother pleading and crying for about six years now and yet I felt no remorse for how she felt. In my eyes I was already grown at the age of twelve. I had already lived by mommy’s rules I did what she wanted. Now it was time for me to live the way I wanted to live. She begged day in and day out for me to get an education and work towards a career but I didn't want that. The streets were my life and everything else was bullshit. So when it came down to it the streets is where I stayed.
   I fought everyday with my mother about school. Man all I wanted to do was make money and make it fast. What was the point in sitting in a class for 6 hours when I could be hustling. I made at least 600 dollars a week just to be a look out man. Plus my status in the hood was moving up. Within a few months I was selling and soon after that I had niggas working for me.
   My money flow started to grow crazy and I had the whole hood hating now. Even my own niggas started acting funny towards me. I got threats all the time by the older cats. "Yo dawgs can't hustle on this block" is what they use to tell me. That shit would just go in one ear and right out the other. My own mother couldn't tell me shit so who these niggas think they is. I wasn't the little look out boy no more. Now I was 17 and in my eyes I was the money man known as money mike.
   More trouble came after the threats and I had to keep my eyes open always. I got into less fair fights and got jumped more. Eventually that also changed and instead of getting jumped niggas started shooting at me. I even had niggas trying to kick in my door trying to get at me. Shit was starting to get crazy but I still had to do what I had to do. I had myself, my mother, and my money to protect. So I did what any gangsta would do I went out and brought a gun. Before they got me I had to get them.
I circled around the block three or four times but the block was surprisingly dead that day. It was almost like the whole block had been warned except me. There weren’t even people driving by in cars for some reason. My mind started racing, I didn’t understand what the hell was going on. For the first time in my life I was actually scared I mean really scared. I new something was about to happen but I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to just drop the gun and run home but than I would have been a pussy. So I stood there and waited with my gun ready.
I stood in the same spot for about thirty minutes before I decided to give up. Than time seemed to have stopped all of a sudden. As I started to put my gun away I was hit once in my back. I fell to the floor instantly. This is it, its over I thought to my self. I remember hearing my mother scream from our apartment window. "Please please don’t kill him please don’t kill him!" she kept screaming, but they didn’t have no remorse for her feeling just like I didn’t. The gun went off twice after that than I went blank.
I lived for the streets and I died in the streets. Shot twice in the back and once in my head, all over the power of money. I didn’t know that money would have me digging a hole too deep for me to crawl of until that first bullet in my back. That one bullet made me realize that the hole I was digging for so long was actually my own grave.