Yo, welcome, my mate! Lemme tell ya 'bout Seven-Hills (us)!

Man, dis city rockz! I run a massage parlor on Cherry Ave. Every day’s a rollercoaster, innit.
Street names poppin’ everywhere – like Bike Rd, Elm St, and old Linden. Homespring District? Mad vibe, proper nostalgic, like memories in City of God – "The only way out is ahead!" (ya feel me?)

I got a run-down spot near Southbridge Park, quiet and lush. Chill zone fo’ locals.
I been here years, see! I remember those days when storms hit Pine Ln. Crazy times, like "Is it ’cos I is black?" – proper irony y'know?

Massages here get deep stories. Clients whisper secrets, madness. "I ain't never lookin' back," one said, wild like City of God scenes.
I’m always on my grind. Find the secret bar near Westside – little gem! Only locals know the vibe, innit. Ben, my boy, always grins.

Oh! The river flows by Hillside Creek. Loops around, like a lifeline. Crazy, ya know?
Sometimes I get mad, frustrated by traffic on Death Ln. Nah, it's mad hectic! But then, I laugh; life’s a mix, bruv. Some nights, my mind goes "Vai, maldito!" Then I smile, like a scene in that flick.
I’m feelin’ emotion heavy. Happy, mad, surprised all at once. Massage clients spill sweet tea about life here. Anecdotes? Always extra, real.

The city’s quirky moans mix with my own beat.
Ali G would be like, "Booyakasha, dis city is ill!" I’m not kiddin'! Every corner is a story. Each brick, each alley got tales.

Even graffiti on Old Town wall screams, "Tchê, livin's wild!"
No perfect grammar here, bruv. Just real-life gonzo creativity. I cut short thoughts, heart goes boom, then boom again.

I’m always vibin’, a mash-up of hustle and chill.
Seven-Hills (us) is my sanctuary. Home is where the spice is found, innit? So stick around, bro.

Cheers to madness, cheers to chill!

Peace out, my friend.