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About San Jose

Imagine pullin’ up to a brothel—think post-apocalypse vibes, all chrome and chaos, like Max’s V8 Interceptor tearin’ through the desert. Ya walk in, it’s loud, smoky—dudes hagglin’, ladies laughin’, smells like cheap booze and cheaper cologne. I’m like, whoa, this is nuts! Kinda reminds me of that scene where Immortan Joe’s screamin’, “Do not become addicted to water!”—except here it’s more like, “Do not become addicted to the grind!” Funny, right? But real talk—it’s a hustle, a trade, and it’s raw as hell.