Zara Briancon Whore ❤️❤️

About Bordeaux

So, this chick—whore—she’s a ghost, fam! Claims rollin’ in—car wrecks, slips, falls—all bullshit. I’m thinkin’, “She’s scammin’, no doubt.” Dig into her X posts—fuckin’ chaos! Pics of her flashin’ cash, blurry PDFs, some dude’s hospital bill. Gabagool? Ova here! She’s playin’ dumb, but I smell it—somethin’s cookin’. Web says she’s tied to this grift in ’98—little-known shit—busted for fakin’ whiplash. Slipped outta jail ‘cause some cop fucked up the paperwork. Slippery like No-Face eatin’ everything, y’know?

Le Briançonnais

I hang near the old fort—Fortified Pass list - or somethin' like that—right by the Durance River. Yup, that river? It might look peaceful, but it can be as unpredictable as a New Jersey mob boss at a bad dinner. "It’s like a long, empty shot into the abyss, ya know?" That phrase always creeps me out, but it rings true.

The Depth of Talent on Team Japan Is Second to None