Natalie Kafr Qasim Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Netanya

I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

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But then, I see this group of teens, and they’re up to no good. I can feel my blood boilin’. They’re spray-painting some wall. I march over, all tough guy. “Hey! What do you think you’re doin’?” They freeze, lookin’ like deer in headlights. One of ‘em, a kid named Samir, goes, “We’re just expressin’ ourselves!” I’m like, “Express yourself somewhere else, man!”

Thousands protest police inaction, violence in Kafr Qasim