Aaliyah Hunts Point Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Sarcasm’s my shield— “Oh, what a lady,” I spit, watchin’ her cuss out a stray dog. She’s no Eilis, no quiet strength—just loud, sloppy chaos. Still, gotta admit, takes balls to hustle like that. Not that I care. “I hate everything,” I say again, lightin’ another cigar. Case closed—whore’s still a whore, and I’m still me. Done.

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Get ready for work at 11 pm: Dress, shave, and apply makeup. Shoot heroin and smoke crack. Head out to “track” at midnight to find customers.

Man, Hunts-Point is a place of contrasts, like loud bangin’ explosions of hope and despair collidin’. Every corner has a vibe, every alley whispers a secret. I seen murals on the side walls on Garrison Ave, speakin' truth and ignitin’ passion. Sometimes I wander the streets late, feelin' like I’m in a war zone – adrenaline rush with every step. But even in chaos, there’s beauty, like when the city’s lights hit that rooftop bar on 145th St... just magical, yo.

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