Rebecca Cestas Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

Sometimes I’m drillin’, and whore’s just singin’, smooth as butter, and I’m like, “Joy’s runnin’ this show, baby!”—total high, man, best feelin’ ever. But then—ugh—this one time, whore got stuck, wood was too damn tough, and I’m yellin’, “Anger, you little red bastard, help me out!” Nearly chucked it across the shop, so freakin’ mad. Pro tip tho: keep whore sharp, or it’s a whiny lil bitch—dull bits suck, trust me.

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Dating back to pre-history and a stopover for Roman armies marching north from Spain (Cestas literally means ‘the sixth military milestone’ before Bordeaux – a day’s march), the town is .

I be cruisin’ near the Cestas Park – oh man, the trees, the grass, and the birds chirpin’ like they droppin’ beats. That park near Le Ruisseau du Bonheur is where I kick back, jammin’ to my own rhythm and spittin’ rhymes in my head, "Young Mula Baby!" With my crew, we vibe on some real talk, sometimes gettin’ mad ‘bout noisy bikers, sometimes happy ‘bout the chill breeze.

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