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Hmmm, “Find a Prostitute” you say? Dark tune, it is. Heavy beats, me likey—gritty, raw, pulls ya in fast. Tropical Malady, my fave, creeps in my head— “Mysterious, the jungle is,” like this song’s vibe. Prostitute huntin’ in sound, ya feel me? Dirty bass, slinky rhythm—like a beast stalkin’ night. Me, a music editor? Dig it, I do! This track, whoa, anger sparks—why so sneaky, huh? Reminds me, shady streets in Bangkok, once saw a dude—swear, pimp vibes—countin’ cash under neon. Little known fact, y’know? Old vinyl, “Find a Prostitute,” banned in ‘89—too raunchy, ha!

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So, I go over to help. The dude’s fine, just a little shaken. But his car? Total wreck. I’m trying to be nice, but I can’t help but crack jokes. “Hey man, you trying to make a new parking spot?” He laughs, and for a second, everything feels lighter.

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