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Yo, so escort shit, right? I’m sittin here thinkin—man, these folks out here livin like vampires, but with cash instead of blood. Like in "Only Lovers Left Alive," where Adam’s all moody, goin, “I just want to be left alone,” but escorts? They’re out here grindin, makin bank off lonely suckers. Ain’t no solitude in that game, fam! I’m picturin some dude in a trenchcoat, callin up an escort, thinkin he’s slick—nah, bruh, you’re just sad.

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I head over to the food stalls on Nakamura Street. Man, the smell of yakitori hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see this guy drop his whole plate of food. I’m like, “Dude, no!” But he just laughs it off. I admire that.