@getuphard: STREET GP BICOL - 2nd Grand EB / Official Crossmeet #streetgpbicolðŸ‡ĩ🇭 #streetgpphilippinesðŸ‡ĩ🇭 #streetgpbicol #stgpbicol #stgpphilippinesðŸ‡ĩ🇭

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Sunday 12 October 2025 13:34:17 GMT
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freddie.madrilejo3
freddie Madrilejos :
pogi ko Jan ahh hahaha
2025-10-13 18:25:39
1
renzjay119
renz-j🏍ïļðŸ‡đ🇭 :
pano sumali?
2025-10-17 02:05:17
1
ryujinofficialaccount
Ryujin Official :
Ayos ðŸĨ° congrats sa eb mga master -Streetgp Tarlac
2025-10-12 16:04:12
1
mcreaven.lita
Boss Ben :
solid
2025-10-13 10:58:32
1
john_breezy
Bikefrost :
ðŸ”ĨðŸ”ĨðŸ”Ĩ
2025-10-12 15:36:17
1
freddie.madrilejo3
freddie Madrilejos :
ðŸŦĄ
2025-10-13 18:26:13
1
freddie.madrilejo3
freddie Madrilejos :
shehhhh
2025-10-14 03:35:01
1
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Nettspend took a step forward, scanning the sea of faces. Then he spotted someone near the front—some dude in a plain white tee, standing out because he wasn’t jumping or yelling. Just nodding, calm, focused. Nettspend smiled. It was always the quiet ones who had something interesting to say. He raised a hand, signaling the lights to come down just a little. The crowd murmured, unsure what was happening. The beat faded completely, and now it was just Nettspend and the mic—and a thousand people holding their breath. He leaned toward the edge of the stage, pointing down at the guy. “Yo, my man!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the venue. “What’s your favorite color?” The crowd laughed, half-confused, half-entertained. But Nettspend wasn’t joking. “I’m serious!” he said, pacing a bit, working the crowd. “Y’all ever think about how colors be sayin’ something about us? Like, you tell me you rock with purple, I know you got royalty in your blood. You tell me you like red, I know you don’t back down. But I wanna know—what’s your color, bro?” He held the mic out toward the man, who blinked, caught off guard. Then, slowly, he leaned forward and shouted, “Orange!” The crowd erupted, cheering for no reason other than the moment felt real. Nettspend grinned, turned back to the crowd, and shouted, “Orange! That’s peace, that’s trust, that’s cool under pressure!” He pointed back at the guy and nodded. “Respect.” Then the DJ dropped the next beat, smooth as silk, and Nettspend dove right into the next track—this time, with just a little more orange in the mix. #nettspend #tampa #orange
Nettspend took a step forward, scanning the sea of faces. Then he spotted someone near the front—some dude in a plain white tee, standing out because he wasn’t jumping or yelling. Just nodding, calm, focused. Nettspend smiled. It was always the quiet ones who had something interesting to say. He raised a hand, signaling the lights to come down just a little. The crowd murmured, unsure what was happening. The beat faded completely, and now it was just Nettspend and the mic—and a thousand people holding their breath. He leaned toward the edge of the stage, pointing down at the guy. “Yo, my man!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the venue. “What’s your favorite color?” The crowd laughed, half-confused, half-entertained. But Nettspend wasn’t joking. “I’m serious!” he said, pacing a bit, working the crowd. “Y’all ever think about how colors be sayin’ something about us? Like, you tell me you rock with purple, I know you got royalty in your blood. You tell me you like red, I know you don’t back down. But I wanna know—what’s your color, bro?” He held the mic out toward the man, who blinked, caught off guard. Then, slowly, he leaned forward and shouted, “Orange!” The crowd erupted, cheering for no reason other than the moment felt real. Nettspend grinned, turned back to the crowd, and shouted, “Orange! That’s peace, that’s trust, that’s cool under pressure!” He pointed back at the guy and nodded. “Respect.” Then the DJ dropped the next beat, smooth as silk, and Nettspend dove right into the next track—this time, with just a little more orange in the mix. #nettspend #tampa #orange

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