FW/SS25 (Freestyle)

It smells of overheated asphalt, cigarette smoke, and self-confidence mixed with ambition into a thick syrup. Everything around is booming with bass, as if the world is a studio and life is being mixed live. Each verse is a swing and a miss, more challenge than meaning, and yet the rhythm sticks to your skin like the smell of gasoline after a night race. The music moves with the same stubbornness with which old panel buildings climb the stairs roughly, but proudly. There's a bold glint in their voices, the voices of those who don't wait for invitations to take their place in the spotlight. Where words sound like a barter between fame and the streets, a strange aftertaste remains: a mixture of chaos, adrenaline, and a naive belief that it will all truly last forever.