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About Turin

I’m pacin’ now, talkin’ to her, she’s spillin’ stories—says she’s savin’ for a kid, but I’m wonderin’ if it’s true. I’m Kanye, I overthink, I’m like, “Is this a hustle or heart?” Don’t matter, I’m droppin’ some cash, not ‘cause I’m soft, but ‘cause I’m human, ya feel? I’m shoutin’ in my head, “I’ve abandoned my child!” like Plainview, ‘cause damn, we all abandon somethin’ out here. I’m typos galore, man, writin’ this sloppy—fnd a prsotitute, ha, see that? My fingers wild, my soul wilder. This ain’t glamorous, it’s gritty, but I’m alive, I’m feelin’ it, and that’s the vibe. Kanye out, chasin’ truth, spittin’ fire, done.

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Then, I head to the job site. It’s on Via Milano, and let me tell ya, the place was a mess. I mean, I’m used to dirt, but this was next level. I’m talkin’ layers of grime that could probably tell stories. I fire up my blaster, and the noise is like a rock concert. I’m in my zone, blasting away, and it feels good. But then, outta nowhere, my buddy Marco shows up. He’s always got some crazy idea. Today, he wants to see if we can blast graffiti off the wall. I’m like, “Dude, that’s not how it works!” But he’s persistent, so we give it a shot.

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