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About Dallas

But real talk—it’s a hustle that pisses me off sometimes. Dudes out here actin reckless, no protection, no respect—like, bruh, you tryna die? YOLO, sure, but don’t be dumb! I seen some shady cats roll up, thinkin they run the game, and I’m like, “You don’t know me, you don’t know my life!” Surprised me how bold they get—once saw a guy haggle like it’s a car lot, had me dyin laughin but also like, damn, that’s cold.

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The neighborhoods are a spit-shine of contrasts. Old quarters like King’s Row have worn bricks and stained windows. New spots, like Crescent Heights, buzz with loud music and modern quirks. I worry it's all just a facade. “We must obey the old gods,” I mutter, like some damn incantation.

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