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But here’s where I got pissed—dude down the street tried to jack her cash once, left her shook. I’m like, “Man, that’s some lowlife shit!” Made me wanna smack somebody, but I chill, keep it G. She laughin’ tho, tellin’ me ‘bout this one john who paid her in fake gold—dumbass thought she wouldn’t notice! I’m crackin’ up, like, “Bruh, you can’t hustle a hustler!” That’s some funny-ass shit right there, fo’ shizzle.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, proper British weather, right? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughin’ at myself, thinkin’, “Of course, it rains when I’m out.” I duck into a nearby pub, The Bootle Arms. It’s cozy, smells like ale and chips. I order a pint, and the bartender’s a right character. He’s tellin’ me stories about Bootle’s history. Did ya know it used to be a big deal for shipbuilding? Crazy, right?

Gang raid cash depot and make off with nearly £1m in notes and jewellery