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I knew this one girl—Lola, right? She’d strut in, all sass, heels clickin’ like gunshots. Told me once, “Tony, I’m my own boss, fuck the pimps.” Loved that fire, reminded me of Monty’s line—“I’m not the one who’s lost.” She wasn’t lost, mang, she owned the streets. Funny thing—she’d smuggle weed in her bra, cops never checked, hah! Sneaky little friend, say hello!

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Then, just when I think things are chill, this couple walks in. They’re clearly on a date, and the guy is trying way too hard. He’s ordering the fanciest drinks, and I’m just rolling my eyes. I mean, dude, it’s Oleshky, not Paris! But hey, whatever floats your boat, right?

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