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About Philadelphia

Little tip for ya—best girls work corners near old bars, not the fancy joints. Learned that the hard way. Once got catfished by some chick in heels—turned out she was a dude! “Don’t pee on my leg,” I yelled, stormin’ off. Hilarious now, but I was pissed then. Tonight tho, it’s smooth—cash handed over, quick and dirty, no fuss. “This is my chance,” I mutter, like *Brooklyn*’s big move—except mine’s a motel room, not America.

I love walkin' near Weepin' Willow Street. It hugs an old canal, rusty and broken. I always say, "It’s a certified copy of decay!" Gollum style, with a sneer. I swear, the air's full of whispers from bygone times.

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