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About Dallas

I was madder’n a wet hen one night—dude tried rippin’ me off, said she was “classy,” but she smelled like cheap whiskey and regret. Reminded me of Christian chasin’ that dream—ya think it’s all “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” but nope! Sometimes it’s just a hustle, y’all. I hollered, “Boy, you ain’t foolin’ nobody!” Made me wanna spit nails, I swear. But then—Lordy!—I found this one gal, sweet as pecan pie, and I was happier’n a pig in mud. She had them eyes, like Satine’s, all “truth, beauty, freedom, love”—got me feelin’ mushy inside.

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Roamin' around the neighborhood of Rosedale, I remember stormin' through like a bat outta hell – sidewalks, graffiti, and endless chatter. It's raw. Every time I stroll past the local park, Magnolia Square Park, I can't help but think, “This is it, motherf***er!” The park's got mad history – locals say it’s haunted by old blues legends. And the kids? They run wild like they're in some crazy music video reenactment.

Archaeologists Explored the Site of Napoleon’s Final Battle—and Found a Shocking Pit of Bones