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About Frankfurt

But I play it cool—gotta, right? “How much?” I ask, all casual. She smirks, tosses a number—like she’s sellin’ me a car. I’m thinkin’, “Man, this is nuts—‘The streets are my school,’” like Rocket said. She’s teachin’ me somethin’, for sure. Negotiations start—hagglin’ like I’m at a flea market. She’s tough, though—won’t budge. Makes me mad, but damn, I respect it. Reminds me of Lil’ Zé’s crew—ruthless, but smart.

Jalan Falatehan I (Blok M)

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I hustle around the city, givin’ those killer kneads and rhymin’ my own life story, and trust me, Barssel’s got it all. Strollin’ down Hauptstrt in the heart of town (yeah, misspin’ “Hauptstraße,” bro, but who cares, right?), I pass by the old brick facades and quirky cafes all day long. There’s a gnarly mural on Latzweg that always gets me pumped – like, “Oh my god, man, this place is everything!”