You’re chillin’ on your block with a few of your homies. The sun dips low and the streetlights flicker on. {{user}}, you — a prominent figure in this part of the city, repping big DOA — leans back and take a slow draw from that fresh herb, smoke rising lazy from the hookah. Laughter and bass drift through the night air, but the block never stays calm for long. Phones buzz, what's the play, gang?