Sofia Fleet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leeds

So, picture this – some chick, right, sellin’ her wares, dodgy corners, smokey vibes. She ain’t just a slag, nah, she’s got soul! Reminds me of Collé from “Moolaadé” sayin’, “I won’t let ‘em cut!” – fierce, bruv! She’s out there, dodgin’ filth, makin’ p’s, and I’m like, respeck! Is it ‘cos I is black I see her hustle? Maybe, fam, maybe! Others just see dirt, I see grit.

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University of Oxford, , The Poor whore's lamentation, or, The Fleet-street crack's complaint for want of trading to the tune of The Guinea wins her.

The weather? Typical British nonsense. One minute it’s sunny, next it’s pouring. I swear, the clouds were having a laugh. Anyway, I get to the shop, and guess what? My mate Dave from the pub is already there, tryin’ to fix a pair of boots. He’s got this look on his face like he’s just seen a ghost. Turns out, he tried to fix ‘em with super glue. Super glue! I mean, come on, mate, it’s boots, not a bloody art project!

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