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About Haifa

Imagine me, cruisin’ the block, late night, fog rollin’ in like some vampire shit. I’m tryna find a prostitute, right? Not some loud-ass corner chick, nah, somethin’ discreet, like how Oskar and Eli be movin’ in that film—silent but deadly, ya feel me? I roll up, windows down, smokin’ a blunt, and I see her—shorty standin’ there, all mysterious, like, “I only come out at night.” I’m like, damn, she got that *Let the Right One In* energy, yo!

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid starts screaming. I look over, and he’s flailing like a fish outta water. Turns out, he’s just mad ‘cause his ice cream fell. I mean, c’mon dude, it’s just ice cream! But I get it, I’d be upset too. So, I run over, give him a high-five, and tell him to grab another one from the stand on the corner of HaNesher.