Whilst some people claim that the number seven is lucky, some people, like Duff, don’t believe in luck, or if there is such a thing as luck you make your own. You can’t rely on anyone else to hold your hand you know, you gotsta forge your own path, they aren’t called the mean streets for nothing. Duff is the sort of man who not only makes his own luck (cos who else is gonna look after you?) but he keeps an eye on his bredren too. Those in the neighbourhood feel safe because All’s Good in Duff’s hood, always has been, always will be, the police don’t even come there, because they don’t have to, that block is on lock-down brother. Though he isn’t some type of machismo, over-the-top (hat back go-on Sly) caricature, it’s just the way it is, nuthin to argue about. He has a way about him, the glare of a Pitbull and the smile of Don Juan, Dusty is his girl yep that’s her real name, the name her mamma gave her on the day she was introduced to this world. The girl is fine that’s for sure but what else would you expect from the honey that rides shotgun with the sonic Casanova. She might call herself lucky. Duff would disagree. a Duff Disco - All Good (In Duff's Hood) b Duff Disco - Dusty