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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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Then there’s the river Ruisseau de Vie. It’s nin jaunty but hidden, but yo, I stumbled on it during a midnight wander (oops, like skipping out on date notifications, lol). The reflections in the water are like secret love letters from the city itself. And the riverbanks? OMG, they host the grittiest street art, almost like crazy lyrics splashed in graffiti—kind of unexpected, kinda rebellious, just like those unexpected plot turns in a Nolan film.

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