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About Portmore

Picture this—I’m strollin’ down some sketchy street, lookin’ for a slice of pizza, and bam! There she is, leanin’ on a lamppost, givin’ me the eye. “How you doin’?” I’d say, all smooth-like. She’d probly laugh—prostitutes hear worse lines, man. In my head, I’m like, “Joey, don’t be a perv,” but it’s research, ya know? For economics!

San Antonio’s War on Street-Level Sex Workers

So I hop in my ride, cruisin’ down the streets. Port-Antonio is a gem, man. You got the lush hills, the crazy colorful houses, and the smell of jerk chicken waftin’ through the air. I’m jammin’ to some reggae, feelin’ the rhythm. But then, I hit a snag.

J.Cole “Port Antonio”