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About Bologna

So, picture this—some chick, let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not, she’s out there on the corner, heels clickin’ like a goddamn metronome. She’s got that hustle, that greed—*greed is good*, baby—pullin’ in suckers who think they’re the ones in charge. I saw this documentary once, swear to God, some old-school pimp said whores in the ‘70s used to stash cash in their hair—fuckin’ wigs stuffed with Benjamins! Ain’t that wild? Little known fact, bro, they were bank vaults with lipstick.

Hit The Horns

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After that little incident, I decided to check out the Royal Palace. You know, the one that’s like a mini Versailles? It’s massive! I walked through the gardens, and they were stunning. But then, I saw a couple taking selfies. They were all lovey-dovey, and I was like, “Get a room!” I mean, I’m all for romance, but c’mon, not in front of the fountains!

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