Nova Roye Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

But ugh, the pricks who judge ‘em—makes my blood boil! Like, who’re you, ya sanctimonious twat? They’re out there survivin’, while you’re whinin’ about morals. Reminds me of Lil’ Zé’s crew—kill or be killed, no preachin’ spare. Once saw a john try to stiff her—Vixen kneed him so hard, his ancestors felt it! Laughed my arse off—serves him right, the sleazy git. “I’m the king ‘round here!” he’d yelp, but nah, mate, she ruled that turf.

White Rose

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So, I roll into town, right? The sun’s shining, birds chirping, all that cliché stuff. I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be easy-peasy.” But nah, Roye had other plans. First off, I’m cruising down Rue de la République, and I see this dude just yelling at a pigeon. Like, bro, it’s a bird, chill! But I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who yells at pigeons? Only in Roye, man.

Charles William Roye Obituary - Pontotoc, MS