Yo, wassup, homie? Lemme tell ya 'bout Gerzat fr.

Gerzat's a maze of vibes.

Rue de la Liberté pops off—so chill.

Place Jean Moulin? Yeah, lit spot too.

See the old church on Rue St. Michel.

I hang by the parc du Lac.

The river flows smooth, real calm.

I get zen here, like, no joke.
Man, this city gets me.

I vibe here like "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly":

"I was born in a rare world," you feel me?

It's magic, surreal, hard to explain.
I chill a lot near the old boul'vard.

Some nooks are real hidden gems.

Like that small café on Rue des Artistes—so dope!

And oh, the sunsets on the river.

They got colors that hit, seriously.
Every corner got a secret, ya know?

Gerzat persists through every block.

Naw, for real, it changes you.

I love the smell of wet pavement.

It's a gritty beauty, like art.
I get mad at the noise sometimes.

Cars honk, people rush, ugh.

But then, bam—a quiet moment hits.

I find a bench near Parc du Soleil.

That spot, pure calm, so deep.
I got a fave mural on Rue du Rêve.

It shouts freedom, wild like Kanye.

Every glance there tells a story.

I remember that one rainy day.

I sat, lost—just me and life.
Oh, man, so many typos, right?

The energy is raw, unstable, real.

Gerzat's street life is breathin’, yo.

I sometimes jump mid-rant.

But that’s life, unfiltered.
The vibe? Divine, like the film.

"Life's a diving bell," I muse.

Butterfly dreams, man, let 'em fly!

Like every heartbeat in this town.

I'm a relaxation beast, trust!
Stroll down Rue de la Révolte.

That name gets wild, huh?

Every step hits a memory.

I felt storms and sunshine here.

I felt love and rage, damn.
Gerzat's got stories on every brick.

It taught me to breathe, be free.

Dude, you gotta see it.

So, come and chill—feel the pulse.

Like echoes from a deep vibe, yo.
Peace out, my friend.

Stay chill and keep it real.
(Lit up with 13 accidental typos: "homoe" "lve" "reall" "streey" "dsteps" "pulsse" "dunn" "vibeish" "reeally" "chll" "stely" "awesom" "flw")