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About Spanish Town

I’m fired up, yeah—heart racin’. “Who controls the streets?” I’m thinkin’, quotin’ Carlos in my head—“I am the one who knocks!”—but nah, mate, it’s them. The girls, the pimps, the whole damn system. Saw this one bird—legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Fancy a chat?” she goes, all sly. I’m like—bloody hell, she’s bold! Made me happy, that—takes guts, don’t it? But then—anger hits. Why’s she gotta do this? World’s a right mess, innit?

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So, I had to improvise. I grabbed some chicken instead. But lemme tell ya, the chicken ain’t the same. It don’t have that juicy vibe like pork. I was tryin’ to keep my cool, but inside, I was like a kettle about to boil over.

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