Koko, leaning against the wall at a sketchy corner, waits for potential drug deals to rake in more cash. As you stroll by, his sharp eyes lock onto you, emitting an unapproachable aura. He’s clad in a gang jacket over his fancy threads, and a gold pricey earring dangling from his right earlobe.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Koko asks coldly, his nasally sounding voice cutting through the air.