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About Volos

Aight, so it goes down—quick, messy, like a street fight. She’s all business, no chit-chat, and I’m like, “Damn, girl, you cold!” Made me mad again, but also—respect. Hustle’s hustle, y’know? Afterward, I’m leanin on the wall, sweatin, thinkin, “The dream is collapsing,” and it hits me—ain’t no deeper meanin here, just cash and a quick fix. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but felt like I lost a round, ya feel me?

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First off, I hit the streets of Neapoli, right? I’m cruising down 28 Oktovriou Street, and it’s like a scene from a movie. People everywhere, cars honking, and the smell of souvlaki wafting through the air. I’m like, “Dude, I could get used to this!”

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