I live in Nitro, US.

Maple St. rocks. I love it!

I got a massage parlor here.

I am your father.

Walking near River Bend Park is epic.

Streets like Walnut & Crest echo.

I loooove chatting here, trust me!
Nitro’s vibe is raw, deep.

I work nights. I work days.

Sometimes "Talk to Her" runs in my head—

that film hits deep, I swear.

I remember: “I would rather be with you.”

It hits heart, yah, it does!
My parlor? Lowkey secluded.

Near 5th Ave, behind an old cafe.

Locals dig this chill spot.

I see secrets, share smiles.

I notice all. I miss nothing.

Man, some nights... crazy energy!
Some streets, like Main and Side,

bring gossip of lost loves.

I got drama, I get laughs.

Oh, and more!

Caffeine burns, inner fire burns.
I got many typos in life,

like: “amzoing” and “helllz”.

It’s raw, unfiltered raw.

Friends say, "Nah, chill out."

But damn, Nitro’s mystery enthralls me.
I recall nights by Riverfront.

Moonlit waters, calm, deep.

I once saw a quiet rebel.

Vague words, "I am your father."

So deep, so bold, so yes.
Nitty gritty: Nitro loves art.

Graffiti on Elm St rocks.

Local joints hum with jazz.

I’m speechless sometimes.

It was epic—freaking epic!
Ever-so, Nitro’s got secrets.

I spill them quick, fast words.

Typos, slang, messy feels.

It’s raw, like life itself.

Always, Nitro gives me vibes.

Truly, I am your father now!