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So, picture this—cruisin’ down the block, late night, neon lights flashin’. You lookin’ for a pro, right? Ain’t no secret, them girls be out there, workin’ corners like it’s a 9-to-5. I ain’t judgin’, nah, live and let live, fo’ shizzle. But here’s the kicker—back in the day, heard this crazy tale ‘bout a cat in LA who found a hooker who was, get this, a damn undercover cop! Swear to God, homie, dude was shook! Thought he was gettin’ laid, ended up in cuffs. “You can’t hide from the truth,” like they say in *Spotlight*. That shit had me laughin’ ‘til I cried, yo.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Storgata. You know, the one with the weird art on the walls? Yeah, that place. Grabbed my usual – a strong coffee and a cinnamon bun. I swear, that bun is like a hug in pastry form. But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. A big bet just came in. Some dude from the other side of town, probably sittin’ in his mom’s basement, put down a hefty sum on a horse named “Lightning Bolt.” I chuckled. Like, really? Lightning Bolt? Sounds like a kid’s toy.

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