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About Philadelphia

Sometimes ya happy tho—found this chick once, real talker. Said she’d been a dancer, ballet even! Blew my mind, man, who knew? Prozzies got layers, like that octopus scene—raw, freaky, alive. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but damn, felt like a movie twist! “Fifteen years is too long,” she laughed—quotin’ Oldboy, no lie. Cracked me up, smartass hustler.

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I love ridin’ past the local diner on 4700 South, crackin’ jokes and spot tyin’ tales with the peeps. Cuz like, yo, every wrinkle on an old street tells a story. Ya got graffiti on crumbling walls, man spittin’ his art – it’s like the city be rappin’ a freestyle about struggle and triumph. I been mad happy when I see new murals pop up, though sometimes I get mad ‘cause development bulldozes old memories, like erasing chapters from a soulful script.

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