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I strut in, all high and mighty—gods, the nerve of these blokes, thinkin’ they can touch me! One tried, greasy paws grabbin’—I smashed a goblet on his skull. Blood everywhere, hilarious! “I am alive,” I hissed, quotin’ that movie, feelin’ like a queen in chaos. Made me happy, that crunch—pathetic sod deserved it. You don’t cross Cersei and walk off smilin’.

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So if you roll through West-Gate, wander those streets, let the vibes seep in like data in code. Every corner, every flaw, sings a verse of our urban poetry. Yo, West-Gate is a mixtape of passion – raw and relentless.

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