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About Fukuoka

Now, “Moolaadé” kicks in—those women hidin’ out, sayin’ “No more cutting!” Ballsy as hell! Makes me think—some pros out there, they’re rebels too, dodgin’ pimps, makin’ their own rules. Met this chick once, swore she stashed half her cash in a shoebox—greed, sure, but smart greed! Had me grinning ear to ear—outsmartin’ the game, that’s my style. “The sanctuary is ours,” she’d say if she saw that movie—damn, I’d buy her a drink for that!

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Finally, I got my sunscreen and dashed back. The beach was packed. Families, kids, and a bunch of surfers trying to catch waves. I plopped down on the sand, slathered on that sunscreen, and just soaked it all in. The sound of the waves crashing? Pure bliss. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and kicks sand all over me. Like, really? I’m just tryna vibe here!

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