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About Houston

Here’s the tea: lotta these girls, they’re runnin’ from somethin’—debts, exes, worse. Red? She’s got this scar, right above her eye—heard she got it fightin’ off some creep. Makes me happy she’s tough, but sad too, ya know? World’s messed up. I’m yellin’ in my head, “Drake, don’t get soft now!” So I ask her, “Yo, who’s your pimp?” She laughs—straight up cackles—and says, “Ain’t nobody own me, suit.” Savage. I’m shook, fam.

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Now, neighborhoods—oh boy, let’s rap about Westside. It’s gritty, real, a hidden gem. Street murals scream life. I spent an afternoon in a dive café on Maple St. (real local, ya feel?) where strangers share tales in laughs and spilled coffee. “I love you. I...love you,” it echoed in my mind like in the movie, all sweet and wild.

Kent Garber Obituary - Pekin, IL