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About Phoenix

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

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He must have been converted shortly after to Islam, as we find him (A.H. VI.) heading a Moslem expedition against an inroad of the Urnee banditti, very.

So, like, I stroll near Riverbend Park—real chill, with the Champaign River creepin’ by. That place, it's a hidden gem, where sh* might pop off sometimes... ya feel it? Folks here keep it real honest, kinda unexpected. Pauses, smiles. And oh! The streets? Pah, they got my back. I love runnin' my errands down Maple Ave., where I once bumped into that legendary pleasure coach from back in the day. Crazy, man! Crazy!

Mahomet residents to vote on proposal that would expand school district buildings