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About Garoua

So, say you’re lookin’, right? Maybe down the red-light district—neon buzzin’ like flies on shite. Girls leanin’ in doorways, eyes hard as flint, some young enough to break your heart. “What you want, love?” one says, all casual. Surprised me, that did—how it’s just business, no faff. I’m thinkin’, blimey, this ain’t no Hollywood rubbish, this is raw, like Malik learnin’ the ropes in prison. “You do it, or you’re done,” that’s the rule.