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About Florence

Sometimes I’d see her after a gig, tired, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ out like Monty on that balcony—“This is my punishment?” Shit hit me hard, y’know? These girls, they grind, they hustle, but the world’s a pigsty. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d burn the city for ‘em—Tony don’t play soft. Oh, and the cash? Stacks, mang! One night she made a grand—said, “Better than slingin’ burgers, chico.”

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After the rain stops, I finally get my fire going. It’s crackling, and I’m feeling good. But then, I hear this loud noise. I look up, and it’s a bunch of kids from the neighborhood. They’re running down Via San Giuseppe, screaming and laughing. One of them trips and falls right into my charcoal pile! I’m like, “Dude, what are you doing?!”

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