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About Kumba

So, yeh, I’m picturin it—me, stalkin the streets, lookin for that vibe. Not the high-class escort shit, nah, too sterile. I want the raw deal, the real fuckin mess. Like, you ever hear bout them old Romanian prossies in the 80s? Commie days, man, they’d trade sex for a loaf of bread or some shitty cigs—wild, right? Survival, pure n’ simple. Kinda makes ya think—how far’s a gal gotta fall?

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I gotta admit, sometimes I get mad at the street vendors on Zebra St., blockin’ my view. They know, right? But then I see their smiles and think, “Maybe life is like that, unpredictable, just how nature intended.” And on nights, when the streets feel lonely, I whisper a bit of that Leviathan vibe—like "it is not the strongest, but the one most resilient, who will survive." Wow, such epic words!

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