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It's as if two parallel worlds collided in one track: one glossy, fast-paced, with black beepers, stacks of cash and slippery bravado; the other quiet, almost painful, where nostalgia for something ‘perfect’ and long lost slips between the beats. Rhymes and slang work like a mask, but underneath it all is neon fatigue and sleepy melancholy.

It sounds as if a night out at the club has turned into a personal diary set to beats: swagger and breakdown, jokes and PTSD are mixed together, and between the lines is an attempt to understand whether it was a dream or reality. And this mix creates a strange warmth: such honest chaos can only come from someone who is still capable of feeling.