I can't fall for this again—
Another rich and handsome man—
A dream he wants to be my friend
A dream he wants to hold my hand
No, I can't fall for this again
—but they would go against the plan
A simple programming error,
Lips the color of a pomagranite
And look, here we are again
I'm just good with fucking
I got love, but what it good for
Look at me, or look at nothing!
I'm just good with fucking
Check the news for new engagements
Fucking sick and fucking tragic
Nothing more than actors,
I'm just a happy accident—
I still hate Dillon Francis
And I never wanted Skrillex:
That shit never even happened!
Have you had enough yet?!
Carrot cake does sound good
Ten karat long engagement ring—
Look, I'm just another DJ
Some would call it occult Magic
I just want some dick, man
I got love, but what it good for
Look at me, or look at nothing!
I'm just good with fucking
You know why you like me?!
Yes, I know why I like you—
—no, actually—it's because you're smart.
Where in the fuck are you going?
Well, know faster—we have company.
Destroy every bit of evidence.
—and make sure nobody sees you.
Why the fuck are you here, Timmy?
I told you, I'm not Timmy.
I don't give a fuck who you are—where's my money?
It's— it's on the way, I promise.
I'm don't take well tk promises, Timmy.
What do you take well to?
We're too late, she's gone!
—there's glitter, everywhere.
TIMMY TRUMPET plays a SKRILLEX.
That's weird. I was just thinking he about Skrillex.
You can't be hot and play the trumpet.
THE DEVIL takes away Timmy Trumpet's ability to play the trumpet.
Well, I don't really need both now, do I?
When I'm in a tough spot I have to listen to deadmau5
—something about the precision and frequencies out my brain somewhere between auropilot and dead space.
I've done just about everything you can think of listening to deadmau5.
Working out to deadmau5 is strange.
It puts me in some kind of vibration where people notice me—
People are suddenly “impressed” with whatever it is I'm doing.
And it's usually something regular as fuck—
I'm just doing it to deadmau5.
And for some reason, people are like
I used to work out to Skrillex.
I used to work out to only Skrillex.
I don't know if its just because I was fat, or cause I liked Skrillex.
Now its like running a serrated knife up my spine.
I started to figure out I was kind of famou—
When I showed up at the gym and Skrillex songs kept coming on
“This is what I get for doing nothing but free trials”
You try finding a gym in the shitty areas of New York worth paying for.
The crazy thing about this story is—
There's a lot of crazy things about this story, actually.
EXT. BASKETBALL COURT. DAY.
Alright— shirts and skins —Shirt—Skin Shirt,Skin—
Uhh! Nah. I wanna be “shirts”
Why dude?! Your girl's mad hot!
So I know you got it goin on! Look at you!
Yeah—but girls always cheat on flabby rich dudes! With hotter dudes.
My girlfriend might be cheating on me!
Yeah. Take your shirt off.
No—uh! How do you know she's just not into you!
[ANDRE is tall (about 6'9 dark, and handsome]
[ANDRE shrugs nonchalantly]
Oh really—from all the way up there?!
Face it, man! You're fuckin hot!
I don't like the way that sounds coming from you—
Were you this aggressive with my girl?!
You're holding up the game getting mad over nothing. It's Hollywood!
You're new here—you'll catch on.
I'm shirts—you're skins—Game on.
[SUNNI BLU goes beast mode and plays the dirtiest, most whoopass game in history—out of spite and anger of the toxic masculinity; this of course earns SUNNI BLU even more respect as a “man's man”]
Later: as the owner of the clippers, sunni BLU trades “Andre” to the worst basketball team in history.
As soon as the moon is full,
And as sure as we are to shine,
I had one slice of red velvet cake, one slice of cheesecake—which of course only reminded me of Sonny Moore—the decadent, delicious red velvet—and Dillon Francis—the spiced and ecclectic trademark carrot cake—if only not to sooty the pain of joe much I wanted both of them, but probably didn't need them—how I craved them so, but they probably weren't good for me, nor would they last—
—but they would both be delicious, anyhow.
INT. EMPIRE ENPANADAS. NIGHT
Lol the only thing funny about this scene is that their New York accents are so atrociously heavy.
INT. SUBWAY STATION. DAY.
Sunni BLU is passed out in the subway station.
You never know who you're gonna meet.
YeH! I met R- Kelly down here!
Not at this station, though, but yeah.
It was all just an awful game, to make you write more songs—
And in the end, if you don't make the cut
They just make you kill yourself, anyway.
Love isn't real, but money is;
And all men want is money,
So they can buy the love—
And all women want is love—
But it has to come with money
Or it all just falls apart
Illuminaudio, for starters
Cross a crucifix for sons, and wanted daughters
What's a brother to a sister—
What's a stop sign to a car,
In the end, they kill you off
In the end, they kill you off
With every cough, they kill you off—
But there's always another
A far cry, out into the distance–a wind, almost a whisper; A lover, long gone and almost since forgotten, unseen since the very dawn of time and first ever glimpse of light–
Well, are you gonna tell this story or not?
This dude has a radio tower in his front yard.
Alright, you son of a bitch.
Not that nice–bringing you here.
How do you know that's how I got here?
How did we get to this point?
How did you get in my house?
Ze show is on and it is getting one deeper. Be quiet.
She really wants to fuck Dillon Francis.
I mean, I beg your pardon.
Could you repeat that last part?
Woah, this gets multidimensional as fuck.
THere better be loopholes.
I was really looking forward to those loopholes.
Just SHUT UP and EAT YOUR CEREAL.
Don't worry–I'm still Team Skrillex.
Oh, so–it is a love story.
I don't think that's what this is.
There's something I need to tell you.
Then how am I supposed to–
Just–shh– follow my lead.
You nutted to this girl 36 times in the last 20 Calendar days.
36 Times. One Girl. 20 Days.
I have your entire internet history.
There's no Skrillex Deepfake.
Why would you look at this?
Whatever happened to the–
So what do you think is gonna happen?
Listen. I have a lot to get through. THis is all just nonsense.
I think we're avoiding some heavy subjects, here.
Well, there are a lot of discrepancies.
Congratulations, you got the job!
I need you to get the fuck out of here in the next five seconds–before I blow my head off, and take you with me.
YOu don't think this hits a little close to home.
For the Record, Skrillex, Dillon Francis, and Deadmau5 respectively are all getting their dicks sucked on yachts right now in some foreign exotic country–
And People are living in tents under bridges.
If you think this project is reckless and bizarre, check your own simulation.
Somewhere between blowing our heads off and getting our dicks sucked?
I'm sure there's a striking correlation somewhere.
‘My Candle Burns At Both Ends…'
Cause shotguns are messy–
–and for dramatic effect;
[the other party quickly removes his handgun from his waistband, shooting the other man and then himself quickly; They now both lay dead.]
By goD, youre right. [iPhone]
“Tales of A Superstar DJ”
To do: Cut Freaky Friday 001
Cut Throwback Thursday 001
It's far beyond my control
I get out of my head and into my soul
In one ear, never out the other
If the wind blew down your door,
How would I call for you?
And the silk of her hair,
Or the satin of her dress,
Oh, it's almost admissible,
That all the world is words,
As I tear down my worlds,
And I've already stopped enough once for today,
Surely, what you'd like is just
The time to get it all to nothing
(Never had I wanted it or needed it)
But I'll never be off the hook again,
If you look for the proper way to move forward,
Especially looking behind you
(Always looking behind you—
To sit down and decide a whole song about you
While taking it all down.
I'm never distraught with the thoughts of a stranger,
You should be mad about battle,
But I'm all for the veterans and
And never off if we were not at war with one another, but
That's all we've ever done
“Clever and splendiferous confectionary efforts,
Just spectacular concessions my dear; I'll have another.”
Hadn't I deciphered once or twice the rhyme for riddles down to dollars and cents?
I never hindered Heaven from pondering over my shoulder once or twice upon a full lit moon, which under I predicted my own fortune.
Indifference, for instance, instantly inscessent ancestral insimination incriminating risidual visuals uhh—
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