In all my nightmares, I am in a trench with intense fire, resting and smoking my last cigarette, accepting that my end is bleading on green grass, thinking about your tits and the children we never had.
I've been feeling so good lately that I'm ready for the relapse just like in my dreams i already have the dagger sharpened, ready to cut my way through anyone...
Man, one of the greatest memories is fleeing from the police right after we flew past that control at 150 km/h, heart racing, blazing up, drinking José Cuervo blanco, and just dying laughing at those fuckers who had no chance of catch us
So yeah, I'm apparently that good at selling that one of my last clients took me to shoot range, and there I was just messing around with a Beretta.
(Honestly have zero idea who I was drinking with or how we kept closing shit afterwards.)