Ava Gloucester Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Met this one whore—well, in my head, alright?—called her Vixen, cos she was sly as hell. Reminded me of Knockout Ned, all charm ‘til you cross her. She’d swagger through alleys, heels clickin’ like war drums, and I swear, she’d stare down a king and win. “The sun’ll shine on us someday,” she’d mutter, like Rocket hopin’ for a break. Got me all soft for a sec—me, Loki!—cos damn, that grit’s somethin’ else. Then she’d nick your wallet and laugh, and I’d cheer her on. Mischief recognizes mischief, ya see?

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I know I’m jumpin' ideas like crazy, but you get it: Gloucester is gritty—with edges smoother than a remixed beat. Every block’s a lyric in my life’s mixtape. Sometimes I even think, "I wanna be free!" and then it hits me: this city's the freedom I rap about.

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