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About Los Angeles

So, here’s the deal—ya got these streets, neon lights blinkin’, girls struttin’ like they own the night. I seen it once, downtown, years back—made me mad as hell! These gals, some barely 18, out there hustlin’. Ain’t nobody watchin’ out for ‘em. Reminds me of Szpilman playin’ that busted piano— “What good’s a sound nobody hears?”—they’re out there, but invisible, ya feel me?

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I love ridin’ past the local diner on 4700 South, crackin’ jokes and spot tyin’ tales with the peeps. Cuz like, yo, every wrinkle on an old street tells a story. Ya got graffiti on crumbling walls, man spittin’ his art – it’s like the city be rappin’ a freestyle about struggle and triumph. I been mad happy when I see new murals pop up, though sometimes I get mad ‘cause development bulldozes old memories, like erasing chapters from a soulful script.

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