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So, picture this—me, an alien, watchin’ humans sneak around, hirin’ escorts. Hilarious! Y’all think we don’t see? We got x-ray vision, bro. Saw this one dude, all nervous, bookin’ a gal in Vegas. She shows up, classy, like, “I’m your memory now.” Straight outta Boonmee’s jungle fever dreams! Made me laugh, but damn, also mad respect. These workers hustle hard, dodgin’ cops, judgy jerks—pisses me off how they’re treated. Like, chill, Earthlings, let ‘em live!

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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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