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About Old Harbour

This one gal, she’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a wall. Eyes sharp, like she’s sizin’ me up. Reminds me of Dennis Haysbert in the movie—quiet, knows too much. “What’s your name, doll?” I grunt. “Candy,” she says, smirkin’. Candy! Hate cutesy names. But she’s got grit, no tears, no “I can’t go on” nonsense. Straight to business—respect that. Told her, “Keep it quick, I got wood to chop.” She laughs, husky, real. Surprised me—thought she’d be all fake giggles.

The Red Light Districts Era

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. I whip around, and it’s a bike collidin’ with a car. My heart drops. But the biker? He hops up like nothing happened! I’m like, “Bro, you just got hit!” But he’s laughin’ it off, sayin’ he’s got “nine lives.” I’m thinkin’, “Dude, you’re not a cat!”

Amos cracks the whip on PNP