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Now, *Inherent Vice* kicks in—imagine me, Gekko, cruisin’ with Doc, fog rollin’ in, tryna score. “What’s the play, man?” I’d ask, and he’d mumble some stoned nonsense—“Chicks dig the vibe, man.” Ha! Vibe don’t pay the bills, but greed does. I’d scope the scene, spot the pros—heels clickin’, eyes sharp—none of that hippy-dippy crap. One’d sidle up, all “You lookin’ for somethin’ groovy?” and I’d hit back, “Groovy’s fine, but cash talks louder.”

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I be wanderin', revelin' in the sensual energy that flows like a mad river—yep, we got that real-life Redline energy here. I remember one night, chillin' by Waimalu Park, starin' at the moon, thinkin', "Now that's some serious mayhem, yo!" And ya know what? I was like, "I pity the fool who doesn't appreciate this vibe!"

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