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Acerca de Bilbao

I seen her, fam—prostituta—near the club, heels clackin’, hair wild, smellin’ like cheap rose perfume mixed with regret. She’s a hustla, no cap, but it pisses me off, yo! Dudes treat her like trash, throwin’ cash, laughin’—makes my blood boil, like, “Who gave you the right?” I’m Kanye, I see the unseen, the vibes others miss—her spirit’s screamin’, trapped in this game. Fun fact, tho—back in Rome, prostitutas had blonde wigs, markin’ ‘em out, wild shit, right? History’s freaky like that.