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About Philadelphia

So, findin’ a prostitute? Man, it’s a hunt. Not like trackin’ rare deep-sea anglers, tho. Those girls are out there, scales shinin’ in neon—red lights, tight skirts. I’ve heard tales, y’know, from old dock workers. Back in ‘98, some chick in Marseille—called her “La Sirène.” Fishermen swore she’d lure ‘em in, voice like a damn siren. Took their cash, left ‘em broke and smilin’. True story—or so they say. *Wheeze.* Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ how dumbasses fall for it.

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Now, let me tell ya my fav park: it's Fort Hamilton Park, right at the edge. The water, the vibe—it’s everything. I chill, I relax, and I feel the best calm vibes ever—tremendous, really exquisite. People say, "Donald, this is where you find yourself," and he's right. Look, I walk along East 27th Street sometimes—oh man, the locals admire the hustle, the history, like scenes from a movie, y'know? But, everytime I drop by Meeker Avenue (yeah I know, sounds weird) I get the best energy ever—like a winning streak!

Beach Bomb Vies for Third Straight in Sheepshead Bay