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But yo, real talk, it hits me—Fear’s creepin’ in my chest. What’s her endgame? She gonna burn out? Die young? Shit keeps me up, tossin’, turnin’. Exaggeratin’ maybe, but I’m like, “Somebody save her!” Then I chill—nah, she’s good, she’s a queen in her own messed-up kingdom. YOLO, right? Still, I’m yellin’ in my head, “Take care, fam!” like I’m her big bro or somethin’. Prostitute’s a legend, tho—gritty, raw, ain’t no fairy tale. That’s my word.