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In the heart of Compton, where the streets tell tales of wild niggaz, there lived a rat named Nigrat. Unlike other rats who scurried in the shadows, Remy had bigger dreamz. He was no ordinary nigga. In the midst of his culinary reverie, as Nigrat savored the last morsels of Mama Lou’s legendary fried chicken (and collared greens y'earme), something unexpected caught his big black eye. Hidden within the golden, crispy crust of the chicken, glinting under the dim alleyway light, was something decidedly un-foodlike. It was a small, shiny object – one SOL. Nigrat, with the SOL now held tightly in his small niggery paws, felt a surge of inspiration. He was going to make it out the hood.