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About Amsterdam

I got mad tho—some pimps out there beatin girls, forcin em into this. Pisses me off, like, why you gotta ruin lives, bro? We aliens don’t get that—peace is our jam. But then, happy vibes hit—met this chick once, research gig, she was all “I chose this, pays my med school.” Surprised me, yo—she was legit, no copy, just real as fuck. “What’s authentic anyway?”—movie line again, Abbas knew what’s up.

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So, I’m cleaning up my mess, and I spot this old dude sitting on a bench. He’s got this wild beard and a hat that looks like it’s been through a war. I’m thinking, “This guy’s seen some stuff.” So, I go over and start chatting with him. Turns out, he’s lived in Bleiswijk his whole life. He tells me stories about the old days, when the streets were dirt and the canals were full of fish. I’m just sitting there, listening, and it’s like I’m transported back in time.

No Screw No Glue by Joost van Bleiswijk