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About Houston

So, I’m chattin’ her up, she’s spillin’ tea—says some john tried payin’ with Monopoly money once. I’m dyin’, laughin’ my ass off—“Bruh, you for real?!” Surprised me how chill she was, tho. Tough as nails, like Spike Lee’s streets. I’m thinkin’, “Man, I’d build her a crib—penthouse, no bullshit.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but she deserved it, ya feel me?

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I cannot forget the Blue Ridge River. It snakes through the city, a murmurin’ reminder of life’s flow. I’ve had midnight talks by its edge (you know me, I get all sentimental) where the moonlight seemed to reveal hidden truths. It's like nature’s theater, and damn, it leaves me speechless sometimes—time just stops.

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