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About San Jose

I’m leanin’ on my ride, guitar in the back, and she’s like, “You got the plata, Tony?” Plata, hah! Made me laugh—straight outta Scarface, this one. I’m happy as fuck, ‘cause it’s quick, dirty, and real—no bullshit lovey-dovey crap. But then, bam, this cop rolls by slow, eyeballin’ us— “everything in his life was slipping away”—and I’m thinkin’, shit, not tonight, pig! Sapphire bolts, I peel out, heart poundin’ like a damn drum solo.

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And hey, don’t expect smooth roads all the time. Some streets? Rough as old vinyl. Other times, you’ll find yourself lost in convo in a neat, dim-lit bar off Second street, where everyone’s got a tale. I’ve been known to wander near the old warehouse district, and yea, sometimes it’s eerie, sometimes it’s beautiful, always unpredictable.

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