That’s a bare house. I remember sleeping on mattresses on the floor like that. Only beer and ketchup in the fridge. Blunt guts on the coffee table. All bad. I never sold it but collected the cash on the runs. I was The person who picked up the consignment money each week. I had a little spot just to be out there like that in north St. Louis. Until the federal indictment came. Those dudes acting like that get that Percocet courage and thing they can fight. Ends up always bad. What a shyt life.