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Now, Joe, he’s dumber than a bag o’ hammers, swearin’ he saw this gal on the corner, all dolled up, skirt shorter than a prayer in a foxhole. I said, “Boy, you blind? That ain’t no lady, that’s a trap waitin’ to snap!” Halleluyer! He didn’t listen, ran off like, “We gotta keep movin’, Theo!”—straight outta the movie, chile! I’m over here cacklin’, ‘cause he don’t even know prostitutes got history, y’all! Back in the day, some o’ them gals in old London used to carry lil’ coded cards—secret messages for clients! Ain’t that wild? Joe don’t care ‘bout no facts, he just horny and hopeless.

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Every brick, every whisper in Barra-Mansa’s back alleys speaks to me, yo. The city be messy, but that’s what makes it dope—every sweat drop, every tear echoes with potential forgiveness, like, “Every separation leads to a new beginning, ya dig?”

Russia opens its market for Brazilian animal meal