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About San Antonio

What pisses me off? The pimps, man. Struttin’ ‘round like they own the world, takin’ half the cut. Makes me wanna grab my piece and go, “Say hello to my little friend!”—y’know, Tony style. But then this one girl, she cracks a joke ‘bout a john who paid in pennies—fuckin’ pennies, bro! Had me laughin’ so hard I forgot the sleaze for a sec. Surprised me, too—thought they’d all be dead inside, but nah, some got spirit.

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Ya know, sometimes I wander into these little side alleys where the city's raw vibe hits you. Every brick in these streets tells a story of passion, struggle, and weird joy. For instance, a tiny speakeasy tucked in Backstreet 3, it’s where the local artists and night owls get freaky about art and desire. Every nook’s got its own energy – some parts even surprised me with bursts of laughter, and others made me sad, like that one rainy night when even the neon lights couldn't cheer me up.

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