Hannah Sevran Whore ❤️

About Lille

Little secret, eh? She sings, voice like honey. Heard it late, pier fog rollin’ thick. Shocked me stiff—whore’s got soul, who knew? “The ashes fall,” like in Saul’s hell. She’s ash too, burnin’ slow, dyin’ inside. Pisses me off—why waste that voice? Coulda been somethin’, not just a lay. Hiss! Tricksy world, chews her up, spits her.

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I'm in my new car, I'm in my new whore. I'm on a new war, I'm into new That whip is German, the product from Sevran Pigs won't get me anymore, I'm.

Finally, I get my coffee, and I’m out. I’m walking down Avenue Charles de Gaulle, and I see this group of kids playing football. They’re all hyped, shouting and laughing. It’s a nice scene, but then I see one of ‘em trip and fall. Oof! I feel that pain, man. But he gets up, brushes it off, and keeps playing. That’s Sevran for ya—resilient, tough.

The French town that lost 15 boys to jihad