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About Los Angeles

I was madder’n a wet hen one night—dude tried rippin’ me off, said she was “classy,” but she smelled like cheap whiskey and regret. Reminded me of Christian chasin’ that dream—ya think it’s all “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” but nope! Sometimes it’s just a hustle, y’all. I hollered, “Boy, you ain’t foolin’ nobody!” Made me wanna spit nails, I swear. But then—Lordy!—I found this one gal, sweet as pecan pie, and I was happier’n a pig in mud. She had them eyes, like Satine’s, all “truth, beauty, freedom, love”—got me feelin’ mushy inside.

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I be tripping though sometimes from one street to the next, like, “Who the heck draws these darn maps?!” Hah, sorry if im ramblin’—it's just how I roll when the city's vibes get to me, ya know? Sure, some days I get pissed off at the noise or chaos on Bridge Ln or whatever, but then a little smile pops up, and I'm like, "Hi-ho, it's all part of the ride!" Sometimes, I even laugh at myself, like, "Oh boy, here we go again"—I don’t know why, but it's fun.

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