Gianna Scampia Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Catania

I’m rantin’, I know, can’t stop. Whore’s like art, misunderstood, judged quick. “I danced with death,” movie says. Whore dances with shame daily, yo. Makes me sad, then pissed! Why we hatin’? I’m happy tho, ‘cause some whores win. Like, rise up, flip the script. One time, I met this chick—nah, nevermind. Point is, they human, bruh. Not trash, not toys, real fuckin’ people.

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First off, I hit up Via Cupa, my usual spot for a quick coffee. You know, the one with the old guy who always tries to charge me extra? Yeah, that one. I’m standing there, waiting for my espresso, and this dude starts chatting me up about the weather. Like, bro, it’s Scampia! It’s either hot or hotter. Anyway, I finally get my coffee, and it’s like liquid gold. I take a sip, and boom! I spill it all over my shirt. Classic me, right?

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