Anna Clay Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Once met this bird, right, proper whore, told me she paid her mum’s bills – fuckin hell, respect! Surprised me, that did, thought they was all junkies or somethin. Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – she’d get it, she’s me rock. Whores got layers, man, like onions or some shit. Peel em back, ya find stories, not just pussy.

a poem is not a whore

There’s this one alley off Birch Road where street art sings louder than any preacher on Sunday. Walls full of color and honest messages. I always say, “This city’s spirit is like a kick in the pants from fate!” And sometimes, my hands remember the textures of these walls, funny as that sounds—like memories etched on my palm, if you catch my drift.

2 Chainz honors Atlanta’s grit and growth in ‘Red Clay’ film and soundtrack