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Lemme paint it—me, rollin’ slow, smokin’ a blunt, peepin’ corners. This one chick, tight dress, heels clickin’, I’m like, “She the one?” Pull up, she’s all, “What you need, baby?” I’m thinkin’, *damn, this like the movie*—“You’re late, where were you?”—‘cept I ain’t mad, just high. She hops in, smellin’ like cheap perfume and hustle. Little known fact, tho—some pros in the ‘70s? They’d stash cash in they hair, big ol’ weaves, cops never checked. Smart as shit, right?

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Now, there’s this quirky alley off Stationsstraat, oozin’ character – massive graffiti scrawls that scream “I was here!” and the locals swear it brings vibes like a scene in Ten, you know? I can’t help but chuckle when I think of it – reminds me of that epic scene, “Dreams are just dreams,” or somethin’ like that, real deep and stuff.

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