“Like getting medevac’d from a tropical bar fight.”
It starts with juicy mango — you think you're safe. Then the habanero drops in like it missed its meds and brought backup.
One second you’re vibing on the beach, the next you’re hallucinating a mariachi band made of fire ants.
This ain’t just heat. This is hostile extraction.
Sweet. Spicy. Sinful.
You’re not calling 9-Line for evac — you're calling it for more.