Nifty neat-o. You got a cherry set of wheels with a sound system that rivals Carnegie Hall's, with four subwoofers buried in the trunk and shaking out the undercarriage bolts. You've got some rap blasting out nearby store windows and, by the way, your girlfriend's right ear is bleeding from the noise-induced aneurysm. And, yes, of course! my main desire at this very moment is to listen to the latest hip-hop remix at a decibel level that puts turbine jets to shame.
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