Mia Legnaro Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

So, whores—man, they’re a trip. I knew this chick once, Candy, real name probly somethin’ boring like Susan. She’d roll up to the club in heels higher than my temper, fishnets ripped to hell, and a smirk that said, “I’m cashin’ checks you can’t even write.” Made me mad as hell—how’s she pull that off? Hustlin’ dudes outta their rent money, laughin’ all the way to the bank. “Look at me, I’m fuckin’ rich!”—straight outta *Spring Breakers*. Girl had guts, I’ll give her that. Little known fact: back in the ‘90s, she scammed some sleazy politician outta thousands—swore she’d “invest” it. Ha! Invested it in vodka and a new wig, more like.

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After that, I need a breather. I step outside for a sec, and the air is fresh, ya know? I look down Via Roma, and it’s lit up like a Christmas tree. The lights, the vibe, it’s beautiful. Makes me forget the madness for a moment. But then, I hear this loud honking. Some guy in a tiny car is stuck in traffic, and he’s losing it. I can’t help but laugh. Like, dude, it’s Legnaro, not the Autobahn!

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