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About Kobe

So, how’s it work? You cruise, you spot ‘em—heels high, skirt short, eyes sharp. Or ya text some shady number from a burner phone. “No calls after midnight,” one told me—pissed me off again. I’m like, “What, you got a curfew?” Sarcasm’s my shield, man. But when it clicks? Oh, it’s gold. Hooked up once, chick was a riot—laughed at my tie, called it “grandpa style.” I was dyin’—humor in the hustle, who knew?

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First off, I hit up the local market on Otemachi. You know, the one with all the fresh veggies and fish? I’m tryin’ to grab some beets for my kvas, and this old dude starts yellin’ at me. Like, chill, man! I’m just tryna do my thing. He’s all like, “You can’t take those! They’re mine!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not here to steal your beets!” But he’s not havin’ it. So, I just grab a couple and bounce.

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