The Legend Of
S Ū P ∆ Я E E.™
What?
Dillon Francis
doesn't think he's attractive--?
Must be black magic;
He's so handsome,
Symmetrical and shit...
This is the parallel reality
Where actually….
SupaCree is a superstar rapper...
Flash back to slap-stick:
Comedy Slap-Jacks
Not apples, but stacks of
‘That's slappin',
and
‘Happily in eternal ever-after'
Or hasn't happened,
Or, just happened
And happening as
It's about to happen, and…
—The whole world stands under her
(And Dillon Francis )
—or Skrillex, Whatever.
Fuck it, Then.
JESUS:
Nope. I quit.
M
Back to Back,
Snapback hats,
and Immortal Masters
Half-Tragedy, Half-Comedy;
Half-The Actors in
Half-Ass-Hollywood,
Gave half-of it back to—-
...Satan...
After the battle.
What is “It”?
[SKRILLEX.]
Aha.
[OR DILLON FRANCIS, WHATEVER]
OH!
Then Laughed at it and
Banished him to ‘Nothing Lasts'
Banished Skrillex in ‘The Skrillex;
What the fuck is that?
First come first serve,
If you order that
You're liable to find a
Someone in your hat!
"What's a Bampheramph?"
Sounds like a brand new anthem
Kick Drum
Just sit on your subs and listen
and Bass Makes that Bitch
"Run-Nigga-Run!!!"
Everything under the Sunni Blu
Second to None
Suh Dude
Sup Getter, I'm looking at you
Yeah,
That's exactly what the Men in Black do
And in fact,
Better get back to that soon
Who's ‘Soon'?
What's Luna and Sola's man do?
Two dad's,
That's madness
A mom and a half,
Cause the God's a man,
He's gotta inhabit his planets
Infinity's power so damaging
All her parents together and her brothers can't manage
To stay mad, But Bun In The Oven's Just wreaking havoc
Soul so great, they had to try to split it in half,
And that's how that marks the start of the
Fist act,
But first-things-last
The front man in
From First To Last
Is Asked a task
By a man in a mysterious mask
A mystic shamanic medicine with magic
Manages to mess with his management
Snach ‘em and vanishes into the capsule
Where time-space-past-present are actually infinite
This isn't any regular science fiction if fantasy could bite it in the ass whippin it with fiction
This shit is happening in 9-Dimensional High-Visual
Comedy Central hasn't got shit on this interval
Intergalactically practically impossible,
Which isn't a possibility anything is,
and Excision's Mission is to diminish this kid's vision
of becoming a bass music hit
Superstar super-car driving superstar DJ
Headlining the festivals The Rotella made
Insomniac made me do it,
In Live Nation's name,
Amen,
Aliens save Getter,
And oh shit
Winter Is Coming
It's Miserable
Cold, though the Polar Ice caps are practically invisible
She's immortal ‘until,'
But she was never invincible
Sent to the principal, just to see she was the Principal
In physical infinitely different dimensional interpretations
Interpersonally and impractically imperfectionallly perfect
Political Aspirations Hulk-Smashed
As Thor Smashed his Hammer blabberin' about how
‘Hatch' (excuse the Pronunciation) wanted to run for president ‘28
Gossipin about overhearing her conversation
Between her and a friend which she attended
The Pasquallian Annual Celebration
OF EDC SUPA-ME
Who's this dancing?
Day two Preview of the Could be the first-man
Like a magnet attracted the President out of her bed
Running to catch the Inaugural Sonrise set
Suprise Motha-Mufasa,
And “that's all you get”;
Now let it sit,
Sit with it,
And sit in it
It's like the Festival Version of
‘This Is The End'
Which DJ Battle will be the End
If there is no end and it's just
Infinite
An intimately interesting instant-hit
“Who is this Bitch--?!?”
No, don't call her a bitch
But everybody's a ‘nigga' nowadays,
It's lit,
Until it isn't
And gotta double dutch in some nigga shit
So get this bitch-nigga to kick the shit
And go Get Matt Mason to Dig a Ditch
Let's pusher in it, bury her alive and tell her this
“Listen Bitch Nigg*r You'll NEVER be MY President”
And that's what they said,
But that's what you get
When you live in a red-state
In some hillbilly-shit
Who hate native indegeneous because they get
Reparations since the state was established,
After they finally stopped massacring “savages”
These racists just don't get the half of it
And she's half of them,
So they hate her,
As she manages them,
And the Intelligence agency hacks her shit
To find she's actually rather intelligent
But wants do music,
Googling her favorite 10-years straight
Made way to be made fun of and run away
Heavyweight,
Made to be made fun of and thought of as nothin
No love and no attention from someone
but suddenly one night,
Somethin' one might say is a miracle
If you believe in it, or hear from the spirits
After being straight resurrected,
A man she respected,
As the past-lives of either reflected in
Both their eyes, faster than fast ever happened
A mirror and magnet
Not alike, but equally powerful
Outside, opposites
Inside the match
And that's that,
But she couldn't manage to wrap her Goddess braid-brain around
The God's honest fact:
The Gods say,
This prophet is meant for that
But she's not blonde or pretty,
So she's so sorry she's even existing
And worries, momentarily dying inside
A psychic vision instantaneously penetrating
His image intimidating, but to him it's indifferent
In certainly lives in the definite ending,
Just spent infinite eternities with alien mystics and
Deities in decision of how this division encrypted in
ritualistic mystery kept hidden for centuries
Collide in dimensions and send a signal
As humanity transitions into ascension
and reunification of an ancients
Transition to save a nation.
In Dillon Francis name,
Made famous by
Ahem,
What's my name again?
Amen.
A hotel room in Las Vegas
DILLON FRANCIS is awkward, as he stands nervously in front of the door.
He knocks three times.
SUNNI BLU has been expecting this.
She opens the door; sees him--
Dillon Francis: Hi, I'm--
--and promptly shuts it.
Chak Chel: Ring the bell.
He does so.
A random guy opens the door. Dillon Tries to look around him, but the man matches his movement, blocking his view.
Dillon Francis: Um. Hi--I'm...looking for Sunni...
Guy: She's not here.
Dillon Francis: What do you mean she's not--it's a hotel, there's only one way out.
Guy: Well, she left.
Dilon Francis: What do you mean she--i've been standing here the whole time!
Guy: ...So?
Dillon Francis: There's one door!
...
...
...
Guy: Can I help you with something?
Dillon Francis: Um yeah, I'm trying to find your friend--or--my friend--whatever.
Guy: And you are... ?
Dillon Francis: I'm Dillon Francis!
Guy: (Unamused.) Oh.
Dillon Francis: “Oh.” Yeah .
[seemingly from nowhere, the man produces a picnic basket, complete with shiny bow and card;he shoves it at Dillon Francis]
Guy: Here.
Dillon Francis: Oh--! Uhh...thank you…?
Guy: Whatever.
Dillon Francis: What's--
But the man has already shut the door.
He looks over the basket, rather impressed. Chak Chel dials in.
Dillon Francis: I don't think this is going to work.
Chak Chel: Did you get the sandwich?
Dillon Francis: ...sandw--wait, what?
Chak Chel: Check the basket.
Dillon Francis: How did you-- [checks basket]
Chak Chel: Do you see the Sandwhich?
Dillon Francis: There's a lot of stuff in here…
---CUT TO:
PUT THE DILLON IN THE BASKET!
what.
PUT THE DILLON IN THE
---CUT BACK TO:
[he finds a cleverly wrapped oblong shaped object, which might be assumed to be a sandwich]
Chak Chel: Do you see it?
Dillon Francis: [inspecting the thing] Uhhh…
Chak Chel: Dillon--did you get the sandwich?
Dillon Francis: I mean, this could be a sandwich...It's kind of heavy...and hot.
Chak Chel: Good. Bring it here.
Dillon Francis: Now? I thought I was supposed to--
Chak Chel: I'll send a portal