Grace Cee Whore ❤️❤️

About Las Palmas

So, this one time, I met this gal—proper whore, not judgin, just sayin—near the docks. She had eyes like a bloody tiger, fierce but tired. Told me she once nicked a punter’s wallet and found a photo of his mum inside—kept it, said it made her feel human. Little known fact, right? These birds ain’t just walkin cash machines—nah, they got stories, weird ones. Made me happy, that did, hearin somethin real. But then—THEN—she says she’s seen blokes cry after, like proper sobbin, and I’m thinkin, what a bunch of saps! Pissed me off, too—why you cryin to her, mate? She ain’t your priest!

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Cee's main artery, Calle Real, bustles with life, runnin' right by the old lighthouse by Ría de Arousa. I swear, every time I pass there, I gets all jittery, "Oh, my precious, it's a scorcher!" The harbour is a wild twist of colors – boats leanin’ like rebels in a desert, ya know? And then there's Ronda del Mar, a teeny road that hugs the coastline. So chill, so rough, like a thumb war with destiny!

Central Cee :: Can’t Rush Greatness