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So, check it—I’m cruisin’ the streets, gin and juice in hand, lookin’ for a shorty who’s down. Ain’t no map for this, fam, it’s all instinct, like Ofelia dodgin’ monsters. You gotta peep the corners, the neon lights flashin’—that’s where they at. Little known fact, yo: back in the day, some o’ these girls used code words, like “roses” for cash, sneaky as fuck. Made me laugh, ‘cause it’s clever, right? “Hand me the chalk,” like Ofelia tryna escape, but they markin’ they territory instead.

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Finally, I get to the farm, and it’s a mess. The guy’s been too busy watching TV to notice his plants. I mean, come on! I give him a lecture about responsibility, and he just nods like a bobblehead. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “What’s wrong with you, man?”

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