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About Genoa

So, this tune—prolly some lo-fi hip-hop or trap beat, right? Got them heavy bass kicks, makin’ my damn speakers shake, and some sleazy synths slidin’ in like a pimp’s pinky ring flashin’. Lyrics? Bet they’re talkin’ ‘bout cruisin’ neon-lit corners, scopin’ for that late-night trade—shit’s real, not some polished radio crap. Reminds me of that *Social Network* line, “You don’t get to 500 million friends without makin’ a few enemies”—ha! Swap “friends” for “clients,” and you got a pimp’s anthem, motherfucker!

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First off, I hit up Via Roma for some coffee. You know, the good stuff. I’m standing there, waiting for my cappuccino, and this dude in front of me orders, like, a 5-layered, whipped cream, unicorn frappuccino. I’m just like, “Bro, it’s 8 AM. Chill.” But whatever, I get my coffee, and it’s perfect. Like, I could marry this cappuccino.

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