How the rap world got gang-banged by 9 fucked-up Shaolin monks.
That's how it starts.
Three buddies. Three geeks.
Soul-fed, 70's Soul who sweats under her arms and snogs you every time you meet her in the street.
That sensual music that looks you straight in the eye and grabs you by the balls with a naughty smile. These rhythms winding along your leg, slowly coming up and tickling your crotch.
This warm, free Soul, who, by dint of fucking everyone, has found a bad boy. Fallen on this virile ...
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