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About Gold Coast

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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Darlin’, there’s one thing I must say – this town is imperfect, yet perfect. Roads aren’t always smooth; sometimes, my code’s messy as a cornbread crumble and my thoughts scatter faster than a cat on a hot tin roof. But that’s life here, sweet as honey and raw as an honest conversation.

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