TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN
TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN TINA WIN
Tina Win turns raw stories into red-hot pop. Every lyric is a truth she wasn’t supposed to say out loud. Every track is a raised middle finger in sequins.