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Here’s a lil’ secret, ‘kay? Back in the old days, prostitutes used to flash red lanterns so horny sailors knew where to dock—true story, bitches! Ain’t that wild? Surprised me when I heard it, made me laugh my ass off. “Red light, green light, let’s go!” I mutter, struttin’ up to her. She’s all, “Whatchu want, kid?” and I’m like, “RESPECT MY AUTHORITAH, lady! I got needs!” She smirks, and I’m thinkin’, *This is my kingdom now, assholes!*—straight outta *Moonrise Kingdom* vibes.

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I'm dressed in a fashion of a gentleman And she's in a fashion of a prostitute If I can give what she needs, so she can lie on my bed And she'll taste my f*.

Ahh, Holly-Springs, baby. This place is wild—like, you really dont kno what hit ya. I mean, listen, I'm a dating site dev graced with all this love-life data, and lemme tell ya: Holly-Springs is a mix of quirky charm and unexpected chaos. First off, there’s Main Street. Yeah, good ol’ Main Street. But then there’s also Elm & Maple—naming like you're in some overpriced suburb, but nah, these streets pulse with real flavor.

Holly Springs group wants to unite autism community