Rebecca Gilberts Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Sarcasm time: oh, sure, she’s *just* a whore, right? Nah, she’s a freakin’ mastermind—outsmartin’ cops, clients, me even! I’d be all, “Gimme your secrets,” and she’d laugh, “Pay me first, Evil.” Cheeky as hell—loved it. So yeah, that’s my take—whores ain’t just bodies, they’re goddamn enigmas. Makes me wanna cackle and plot world domination, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!” Respect the hustle, ya fools!

Browse By Tag

Dead Hooker Lyrics: Man goes to a whore house, only has two dollars. They say, well go up to the room we have a dead hooker. So he goes “Okay,” we've all been.

Ahoy mate! So ye want de lowdown on Gilberts (us), eh? Lemme spin ye me yarn. This town be a raucous treasure chest of hidden gems, savvy? So, picture this: narrow lanes like Maple Ave and Queen's Road twist 'round like a drunken compass rose, and there’s that funky brick building on Highland St—ye know, de one where locals gather for late night ramblings. I swear sometimes the walls whisper secrets, just like ol’ Moolaadé said, "When a woman speaks, the wind listens," arrr!

Wildlife Images gala and Gilbert the bear habitat unveiling