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Bones, Thugs and No Harmony

When we are out walking in my hood of Central Avenue, why am I always prying a bone out of my baby’s mouth that she is trying to gobble down? Chicken bones, rib bones, malt liquor bones…one of them chokes on an oxtail bone bout every other day! They know wuz good 🙂
It’s a black thing, you wouldn’t understand.

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