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About Nagoya

So, I roll up to this spot once—shady as hell, neon lights flickerin like they bout to die. Smelled like cheap perfume and regret, straight up. This one chick, she’s all “Hey, big guy,” and I’m like, “Yo, I ain’t that big, chill.” Reminded me of that line, “You’re a wild man, Staff Sergeant”—except I ain’t wild, just confused. Brothels got that chaos, tho—nobody knows what’s happenin, but everybody actin cool.

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Halfway up, I hear this loud crash. I look down, and some kid on a bike just wiped out. I’m up there, trying not to laugh, but I’m also like, “Is this my fault?” I mean, I’m the one in the tree. But hey, the kid’s fine, just a little scraped up. He gets up, brushes himself off, and yells, “Nice tree, man!” I’m like, “Thanks, kid! It’s a real beauty!”

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