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About Kumba

Me? I’d be skulkin’, peekin’ at X posts, diggin’ for dirt. We swears! Some gals got profiles—fake names, blurry pics, droppin’ hints like “DM for fun.” Saw one call herself “Golden Fang”—ha! Straight outta the flick, that boat smugglin’ dope and dames. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ how Doc’d stumble into that mess, all stoned and confused. “Where’s Shasta at?” he’d mumble, while I’m over here, mad as hell—half these posts are scams! Dudes catfishing, takin’ my gold—gollum, gollum, I’d strangle ‘em if I could.

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I remember my first night at Riverbend Park. Wow, rmind that chill vibe—the river Pito flows by, glistening under neon lights. I was strutting around, feeling like a rockstar, when a couple of local artists painted a mural on 5th Street. Kinda scenic, ya know? That night, I felt the soul of Pitoa (cm). “Then I saw that you were my soul, and my heart.” – straight out of Tropical Malady, baby!

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