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About Bari

So, I’m rollin’ through, maybe Chi-town, maybe LA—don’t matter. You see ‘em posted up, lookin’ tired, used up. Breaks my heart, real shit. But I’m curious too, like—what’s they story? One time, heard this chick ran from some small-ass town, ended up here. True story, fam—girl was 19, dad was a preacher, wild twist. Reminds me of *Leviathan*—that priest talkin’ God, but world’s still fucked.

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First off, I hit up Via Cupa, my usual spot for a quick coffee. You know, the one with the old guy who always tries to charge me extra? Yeah, that one. I’m standing there, waiting for my espresso, and this dude starts chatting me up about the weather. Like, bro, it’s Scampia! It’s either hot or hotter. Anyway, I finally get my coffee, and it’s like liquid gold. I take a sip, and boom! I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right?

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