It's the end of the day, and my mind struggles amid declining dance trends, to define intrinsic value in a vast array of dispositions. Every now and then I find myself quoting Tum Tum again... explaining square business to inner circles while marketing Coolios to Urkels. I've come to learn that the best entourages have plenty of hurdles, but there's always a Vince for every Turtle.
Who loves D-Town curves? Not as much as I do. There's something about thriving in a space where the crowd doesn't particularly like you and leaving it better without being spiteful. Truth so good it feels better than being lied to, in a city of egos that only a few can say hi to.
That's Triple D... but now I'm seeing doubles. I don't ask for it, but I'm usually in trouble.
I get a lot of "who is he?" for a dude with no goatee, I'm closely affiliated but there's no beard gang for me. I'm somewhere between 99 problems and 101 Dalmatians, so I believe that's a good recipe for secret sauce and discrete vacations. Some don't believe where I come from but can tell I'm not staying, because I coach in a way that shows I'm really not playing.
To know me is to hear the words I'm not saying.