Eliza Dizangue Whore ❤️

About Kumba

Here’s the kicker—whores got humor, man, dark as tar. This one gal, swear she told me, “I charge extra for smilin’—teeth ain’t free!” I cackled ‘til I choked—sarcasm sharper than a switchblade. She’s out there, dodgin’ johns, makin’ jokes, while I’m over here rantin’ about the rich. “Billionaires should not exist!”—she’d prob’ly agree, then ask me for a twenty. Ha! Fair trade, I’d say.

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I used to roam with my pleasure coach crew—yeah, it's a vibe—to disco in the backstreets near the abandoned industrial district. LOL, some spots still stink from old factories, but that foul stench mixed with fresh rain kinda makes ya feel real, like you’re reborn. Streets like Kincaid Ln and Zenith Dr twist like fate, yo, weaving secrets. Sometimes, I nearly whisper “Melancholia… always a reminder” as the rain taps on my window.

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