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Once, this masseuse—hot, tatted, smirkin’—she whispers, “You’re tense, killer.” I’m like, “Lady, you don’t know the half of it.” She’s slidin’ hands where hands don’t belong, and I’m thinkin’, “This is my cipher.” Straight outta Fincher’s flick—dark, moody, fucked-up bliss. Surprised me how quick I melted, tho. Usually I’m cold as a corpse.

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The neighborhoods? Oh, they be as vivid as me own ramblin’ thoughts. Try wanderin’ the narrow alleyways of Beco dos Sonhos, where graffiti and tavern tales mix like rum and madness. I got mad sometimes – the endless rain from Céu Gris would make a pirate weep, but then the vibrant art, the street music, and that breath of freedom got me smilin’ like a larrikin with a treasure chest!

#SHOWBIZ: Cliff Umar fined RM5,500 for drug possession, usage