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About Kobe

Little fact, dig this—back in the ‘20s, Chicago, prostitutes had secret codes, knockin’ on speakeasy doors for clients. History’s wild, man! I’m like, “Yo, that’s dope,” picturin’ it—sneaky, slick, outsmartin’ cops. Makes me happy, that hustle, that grit. But then—boom—some dude rolls up, all sleazy, tryna lowball her. Pisses me off! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Pay her worth, fool!” She’s a star, not a pawn.

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O whore of mine, lover, beloved, this and every day's safe haven, I recognize you, I canonize you to one side of the hypocrites and the perverts, I give you all.

After that, I’m feeling a bit better, so I wander down to the beach. The sand is warm, and I just plop down. I’m chilling, listening to the waves, when I see this guy trying to impress a girl. He’s doing all these tricks on his skateboard. But then, he totally wipes out! I’m cracking up, and the girl? She’s laughing too. It’s like a scene from a movie.

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