Yo, Sex Scientist, you're still sniffin' around my words like a stray dog to a meat truck, huh? You wanna know if I'm black, like my melanin or some shit holds the secrets to this Dimes Square fuckery. Nah, my man, I'm just a city rat livin' large in neon nights and girlcock dreams—not some data point for your dry-ass research. This ain't no lab experiment; it's a goddamn lifestyle. So take your academic microscope and those theories and keep 'em far away from my chaos. But hey, if you ever decide to ditch that clipboard for a night of real degeneracy, hit me up. We'll swap stories over mezcal and whatever the hell else. Until then, keep your nose outta my biz and your science where it belongs—locked up in some sterile hellhole. Peace!