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About Sao Paulo

Love the hustle tho—makes me grin like a psycho. They’re out there, workin corners or apps, dodgin cops, makin bank. Little known fact? Back in the 60s, Vegas had escort “unions”—secret shit, protectin their own. Blew my mind! Reminds me of Llewyn, y’know, “Hang me, oh hang me,” singin his woes, but still kickin. Escorts got that fire—takin no crap, settin their price. Ever tried hagglin one? Ha! They’ll laugh in yer face, “Here’s Johnny!” style—boom, yer broke and charmed.

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Mateo is a terrible person. He literally couldn't even pretend to be nice during the toy drive for 30 seconds, even though it could mean the difference between.

So, pack ya bags and be ready for surprises. Matao is raw, real, and downright unpredictable. It’s a place where every street name, every shot of neon at night, every little park bench holds a story. And remember, in Matao, as in Mulholland Drive, "the mystery is the message" – so keep your eyes peeled, 'cause you never know what’s ’round the corner. Catch ya later, buddy!

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