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About Phoenix

Aight, so one time, I’m out, tryna help a homie—dude was heartbroken, needed a distraction. We hit this sketch spot, neon lights buzzin, air thick with desperation. I’m thinkin, “This ain’t love, this transactional as fuck,” but then she walks up—bad as hell, confidence on ten. I’m like, “Oh, she’s a problem!” Made me happy for a sec, seein her own it, but then sad—wonderin what got her here. “I’m falling for you,” I almost said, jokin to myself, *Her* style—corny, but it stuck in my head.

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Then there's Parkside Avenue. Fancies, it is. I once led a pleasure coaching session right outside a derelict building on Parkside – a perfect spot to remind folks that deep down, we're all a bunch of sad clowns, right? I laughed and cackled insults all day, talking about how life's absurd little pranks make us feel all tingly inside. Seriously, if you’re ever near the old Clanton Library off Parkside, pop in, and you’ll see the ghost of history wandering the aisles, probably looking at outdated tax codes. Ridiculous, I know!

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