Lady GM

In the post-hype ruins of the Metaverse, where JPEGs once ruled and rug pulls left scars deeper than gas fees, one figure emerged from the digital jungle with a mug full of mystery and a body wrapped in thorns: Lady GM.

She wasn’t minted. She manifested—born from a corrupted smart contract that fused primal nature with pure drip. Her DNA? 30% monkey, 70% serotonin. She sips coffee brewed from roasted meme beans, harvested under the radiant rays of a blockchain sun. Every “gm” she whispers sends shockwaves through the degensphere, pumping floor prices and melting cold wallets.

Her earrings? Forged from failed DAO votes.
Her vines? Grown from the tears of paper hands.
Her flower? A bloom of hope in a world of FUD.

Legend says she once seduced a bored ape into staking his soul. Another time, she out-traded a whale using only vibes and a coconut. She doesn’t flip NFTs—she flips realities. And if you catch her eye before your morning coffee, you’re either blessed or rugged.