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Anyway, findin’ a prostitute? It’s art, man. You gotta feel the pulse, like Eve dancin’ to that funky beat. Hit the right spot—bars, apps, whatever—and don’t be a clown bout it. Me, I’m just chillin’, observin’, laid-back as fuck. Maybe I’m too high thinkin’ this shit poetic, but fuck it, that’s me, Snoop, fo’ shizzle. Stay smooth, fam, that’s the word. Peace.

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Bracebridge Heath Hospital St John's Hospital, Bracebridge Heath The 'Asylum' (St John's Mental Hospital) closed down in and was sold a few years later to a Missing: prostitute.

I hit the main road, and it’s buzzing. People everywhere. I mean, who knew Bracebridge-Heath could be this lively? I’m dodging folks like I’m in some weird game of Frogger. Then, outta nowhere, I bump into Dave from the pub. He’s like, “Oi, you off to the market?” I’m like, “Nah, just trying to survive, mate.”

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