Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-

Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous- Apr 2026

Transformation of the designer’s creative sketches into 2D paper models using the Modaris Lectra V8R4 Expert program

Using the Quick Estimate program to calculate the consumption of the first prototype


Creation of super performing automatic placements with the use of the Quick Nest program through Marker Manager in order to minimize fabric waste.
Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-

Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous- Apr 2026

Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-

Address

Ludovico Ariosto, 36
Padova (PD) Italy
Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-

E-mail

Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-

Phone

Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-
Contacts

Registered office
Ludovico Ariosto, 36
Padova (PD) Italy

Operational headquarters
36016 Thiene (VI) Italy
14, Via del Terzario
Stabile Le Vele

Phone:

MOMOSSTUDIO SRL

Vat 04084900242

Share capital 50.000€

Rea MI - 2689582

Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous- Apr 2026

She didn’t walk to the dance floor. She glided —hips synchronized to the 808s, heels clicking like a countdown. When she reached the center, she spun once, arms wide, letting the crowd part like the Red Sea. A bottle of Cîroc appeared in her hand (courtesy of a promoter who knew her face). She didn’t ask. She took.

And somewhere in the Miami night, the DJ queued the track again—because some moments deserve a rewind. Diddy - Act Bad -ft. City Girls Fabolous-

By the time Fabolous’s verse hit— “Bad? I been that, still that, will that” —Mia had Marcus’s new girlfriend staring open-mouthed, her beige dress suddenly looking like a napkin at a five-star dinner. She didn’t walk to the dance floor

Jada was losing her mind behind the camera. “That’s my bestie! Act bad, Mia!” A bottle of Cîroc appeared in her hand

“Watch this,” Mia said.

The lights pulsed purple. The crowd cheered. And for the first time in months, Mia felt exactly like the song said— bad for real. No apology. No filter. Just the rhythm, the risk, and the roar.

Mia smirked. Two weeks ago, her ex, Marcus, had called her “too much.” Too loud, too proud, too ambitious for a girl from Liberty City. He’d left her for a girl who wore beige and never raised her voice. Now, Marcus was standing across the club, sipping a weak gin and tonic, pretending not to see her in a custom metallic dress that caught every strobe light.

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