Fun? I don’t even understand the concept. I don’t wake up thinking about fun. I wake up knowing I have things to do, and if I don’t, I’ll find things to do.

Work never ends. There’s always more money to make, more skills to sharpen, more ways to win. Every second wasted chasing fun is a second lost in the war for greatness.

You think Genghis Khan cared about fun? Alexander the Great? No. They woke up and took what was theirs. That’s what men are built for—conquest, not comfort.

The Matrix numbs you with distractions—mindless entertainment, cheap dopamine, garbage food, fake happiness. They want you weak. They want you satisfied. But deep inside every real man is the urge to conquer—whether it’s through business, power, or legacy. You don’t need fun. You need purpose. You need war. Every moment you waste laughing and playing, another man is outworking you, outthinking you, and preparing to take what’s yours.

I don’t chase fun. I provide it for others. My women, my people—they enjoy themselves because I handle the burden. I make the money. I fight the battles. I stay stressed so they can live carefree. That’s the cost of being on top. You either embrace the grind, or you get conquered. Simple

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