Triple V

The cold gleam of chrome, the smell of petrol and the nervous energy of concrete neighbourhoods - everything here clatters, sparkles and roars. A world where every metre is fought for, where success doesn't fall from the sky but is carved out of metal. Gold around the neck is not jewellery but armour. Every sound is like the click of a shutter, every syllable like a blow to the asphalt.

There is an order to this noise: anger turns into fuel, fatigue into style, and chaos into a system. Underneath the bass, heavy as dawn after three sleepless nights, the same message resounds: live fast, count carefully, trust no one but your own.