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About Linz

So, how you find one? Peep the corners, late hours—bars too, sometimes. Look for the strut, the linger. Ain’t rocket science, but don’t be dumb neither. Me, I’m laid-back, smokin’, laughin’ at the chaos. “This is some far-out shit,” like Doc’d say. Stay cool, stay sharp—Snoop’s guide to the game, fo’ shizzle!

The street plagued by prostitution and drugs where worried traders sleep in their shops

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The streets, man, they're so quirky. I often stroll along Linzerstrasse, checking out little cafes and bars. I’ve spent too many nights chattin' with locals; sometimes it even sounds like lines from "The Grand Budapest Hotel," all whimsical and oddball. “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” you know? I mean, come on, every street here has got its own personality! And hey, I flitted around the city like a mad butterfly, livin' life like Marilyn Monroe would – breathless, sassy, no filter.

Congo-reka!