Amelia Moscow Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

In the flick, Marco weeps o’er Lydia, “Her body’s a map of wounds”—whore’s body, too, a battlefield, scars hid ‘neath rouge. I’m gutted thinkin’ it, how she’s mocked, yet craved. Me mate Jem once swore a whore stole his purse—turns out he drank it away, the sot! Laughed me arse off, I did. But serious now—dost thou see her? Not just a trollop, but a player in life’s mad masque. “Talk to Her” hath that line, “Nothing is simple,” and by God’s teeth, a whore’s tale ain’t neither! She’s a riddle, a rose with thorns, prickin’ thee to ponder.

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The girls are innocent and mothers stab lovers in Moscow The tanks roll in and the people want more. My father was sure that my mother was a whore in Moscow.

Anyhoo, hope this paints the vibe of the city in your heart, homie. Yo, come through, and we'll ride these streets together, laughin', cryin', and just livin' like there's no tomorrow. Young Mula Baby, keep it real, and I'll catch you on the flip side!

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