Katherine Vanatori Find A Prostitute ❤️

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Alright, motherfucker, lemme tell ya ‘bout this track—“Find a Prostitute,” shit’s wild! I’m sittin’ here, music editor Samuel L. fuckin’ Jackson, blastin’ this beat, thinkin’ how it vibes with *The Social Network*—you know, that slick Fincher flick I’m obsessed with. This song, man, it’s got that gritty, underground pulse, like Zuckerberg hustlin’ code in a dorm, but dirtier, seedier—straight-up street shit! “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse”—nah, motherfucker, this ain’t no Harvard deal, it’s a back-alley hustle, cash for ass, raw as hell!

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I sit on a bench, trying to zone out. But then, this little kid runs up to me. “Mister, why are you sad?” I’m like, “Kid, I’m not sad, I’m just... contemplative.” He gives me this look like I’m speaking Martian. Kids, man. They don’t get it.

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