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Anyway, you roll up, cash in pocket, tryna play it smooth. "You don’t know me!"—that’s what she’d yell, like in "Ten," all fierce. Gotta respect that hustle, ya feel? I’d be like, “Chill, fam, just chattin!” Prolly stumbl over my words—16 typos in my brain rn, fr. Once saw this dude on X post a pic—blurry af, her in fishnets, him like “Best $20 ever.” Laughed my ass off—bro, you simp!

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So, I’m hustlin’ down Calle San Pablo, right? The sun’s blazin’, and I’m already sweatin’ like a pig. I’m thinkin’ about my pottery, my clay, my beautiful creations. But then, BAM! I see this street vendor sellin’ empanadillas. I mean, c’mon! Who can resist that? I grab one, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I’m talkin’ crispy, juicy goodness. I’m happy again!

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