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About Nantes

I’d be pissed if some jerk tried rippin’ her off—makes my blood boil! Like, dude, pay up, she’s workin’! But then, I’d be stoked seein’ her hustle—girl’s got game! Reminds me of that “Ten” line, “You’re a woman, I’m a woman,”—deep shit, right? We’re all just tryin’ to survive. I’d prolly overthink it—*brain fart*—what’s her story? Dumped by some loser? Ha, maybe she’s secretly a ninja!

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My first myth is about boobs. Yeah, ya heard. Boobs. Why do I get the feeling most of the comments for this blog post will be thirsty guys?

First off, imagine narrow streets like Rue de la République. It’s old school, cobblestones crunchin’ under your feet, like that damn beat in "Tabu" – raw, uncut, and unforgettable. I stroll here sometimes and think, "Damn, I hate everything, but this old road ain't half bad."

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