seasons EP

It's like a bad relationship with absolutely zero benefits.

--did anyone else notice she wasn't playing James Brown at all?

SEASONS - EP

555>>>return to sender <<<<<<< 420 >>>>>>return to sender<<<<<<< coughs>>>>>return to sender<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>petite women >< reverse>< demon spell >< reverse>< unrest/disorganization spell>< reverse>>>return to sender>>>return to sender>>>>>all negative spirits, evil energy, bad energy return to sender>>> 5555>>>420>>>>return to sender>>>>Reverse/ sever all bonds>>>>>>bind/banish>>>relinquish all bonds>>>sever all ties>>>>>555>>>>420>>>>return to sender

*heal*

*protection*

*peace*

*love*

*light*

careful of mirrors

Round three?! How is thiis round three?!

CAUSE IT IS.

ARRR.

GUHHH

*EATING SLIM JIM REAL GNARLY*

What happened to rounds 1 & 2.

I DUNNO.

F I G H T.

Okay, Beyoncè. Wait right here. I'll be right back.

…

Beyoncè don't wait.

“Beyoncè Don't Wait”

Yo! Where's Beyoncè

I don't know! I

You don't know?!

I told her to sit right here and i'd be right back.

YOu TolD heR to “SIT & WAIT?”

Well, I told her to wait–

WHY WOULD YOU IMMACULATE HER LIKE THAT.

“Immasculate. “her”? “

BEYONCE DON'T WAIT.

Come on. Wake up.

Dude, what are you doing?

It's training season.

Training for what.

Wake uppp.

Nerr. Me sleeping.

Wake up–deadmau5.

…deadmau5?

*throws toy*

*Hits floor, runs after toy like dog*

Dude.

Oh, i know.

[On a wild goose chase through the infinite multiverse, the bampheramphs are collecting their cringiest alter-egos and parallel selves in order to trace the

What are they looking for again.

Well, it's Skrillex, but.

Is there another word for this.

No. there are no synonyms for Skrillex.

It's–not even in the dictionary.

Oh, it is.

Is it?

Yes.

I own every encyclopedia known to man.

Why.

Because I'm rich.

Ok.

–and full of knowledge.

…

…

Sunni.

What.

Where are you going to put all these?

In the library?

YOu have a library?

No, I bought a library.

*hangs head*

*nods pridefully*,* hits vape.*

Ugh. I

I hate you,

And your two dogs ,

Your pretty little girlfriend

You green lawn

And the white picket fence

that hold it all in

No offense

But i gotta get over you

Somehow

I wanna do dumb shit like play couples tennis

and host dinner parties.

I don't even know where we are right now.

I'M SO DRUNK.

I've got all the reason in the world

To not keep my eyes on you

But my mind's on you

Watch my eyeballs roll to the back of my head

THOSE ARE MY BALLS.

stop talking.

THOSE ARE MY–BALLS.

Sunni, don't do that.

I'M AN ICON.

KANYE WEST and SUNNI BLU are arguably the most obnoxious thing in Hollywood.

Oh my God.

I need a jealous and possessive man,

I shouldn't have to tell you that

Or ask,

In fact, I'd rather have you

Heavy handed, and

Standing over me.

Who is that?

That's C'cxell Soleil.

She told you her name?!

She sold you at an auction?!

Uh huh.

Oh, wow.

THE CELEBRITIES ARE OUT OF CONTROL.

This is for our entertainment.

THE GODS ARE EVEN WORSE.

–AHAHAHA!

God,

what a wonderful dress

I've got an eye for fashion,

Especially if it has my name on it,

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

I'm just saying;

If you beat your wide to a pull in front of your kids

And then literally kidnap the child you share to keep him away from her,

Then refuse to pay off the eviction on the apartment you lost because you beat her senseless in it,

You're a little pussy ass bitch..

I'm just saying

Careful laying curses at your own doorstep

Careful what you say, fake shaman

You just might get it back

Careful who you lay with

And the games you play with heads

Cause bass will roll

It's getting old so

Burn in hell

With your regrets

I said

Amen

420 Starr Michael Roberts 555

You write and carve curses

I reverse them

Your sprite is my highest

My eye the divine

Fine,

Here's your time

—now nobody knows my name.

Now I lay with shapeshifters and hate you every day.

Now I'd rather be away from you

Than have the fame

Anyway,

As I prophesized,

Every time I cry

It digs a deeper grave for you

Not even the baby I gave you could save you

I already forgave you

But I forgot the words to say

—that slays you

Now I'm sick

So sick I can barely get to Hell's Kitchen

Where the devil is

Reminding me I'm irrelevant

Even the villain

Okay then

I guess I'll lighten to the coughs

And eat my cake then

Turns out everything you did and said

Ends in your detriment

Seems that I had woken up from the dead

And now I'm dead again

Everybody's lighting me up

So now I'm red again

And I'll keep playing these drums

Until I'm fred again..

you dumb fucking

but sucking knuckle busting motherfucker

I'm coming for ya

Tell your dad's lawyers to buckle up

Cause The ride's bumpy

—you never loved me.

Whatever this is.

Good luck getting sober

Every day you're getting older and lonelier

The only hope you'll ever know is someone younger

Who doesn't know how slow you are l

Your favorite show is Naruto,

And in you're mind you're only 12 years old

I'd be feeling bad for you

But your karma is hardly over

Till you're homeless

With nowhere to go for a shower

The only power you have is

What I gave you

And these words are reciprocating

How what you put out in the world

Is what you get back; mi'm a talented rapper

And you're a fat sack of shit

With a sack of sticks and seeds

Greedy as it gets—

Half a white supremacist,

But the other half is where it all comes back at you

You're just a tool, fool

Never a champion

You fat ass

You ain't shit,

But a pedophile wifebeater

Addicted to kids with titties

Hot pockets and

All out of options

Just a nigger by standard definition:

Lazy as it gets

I ain't superstitious,

But sent all his demonds back at him

Imm the last attractive ass he'll ever get

Oh, I forgot

That was not me

His wife killed herself

After he hit her

Fuck Starr.

Now I know what curse words are,

Just keep coughing

Not gonna stop still you're in a coffin

But who's gonna buy it, I wonder?

The price might be skyrocketed for an

Extra extra large

Like the price of my apartment is

In the city I live, which

You've never been to

(But you wish)

Imm off in three stops

Wobbling trying to acknowledge all my options

Want to polish my knowledge in college but

Can't afford to go back,

Damn, I need a bathroom stat

A distraction to write raps,

With stomach cramps and a full bladder,

Can't stand it—

No cats allowed in this apartment,

But honestly,

Less responsibility's probably

More beneficial to me than

Anchoring myself to a place

That's more likely to be an Air bnb

While I'm on tour preforming

Here comes Dorothy,

Of course, if I had a body like her's I'd be adorable

Instead I'm just a horrible force of war,

My arms are swollen,

But I don't know,

I hate cardio

One more stop, I've got to —

Of course, the trains stopped in the station,

I'm caught wondering if there's gonna be an announcement about it

And if I should start recording l

But never stopped in the first place, I'm going crazy,

Automatically push the red button

As soon as the conductor starts talking

I'm crossing my legs like this is nonsense

I gotta

Finally, moving forward

I hope there a Starbucks or something

I love coffee in the morning but not on a long commute so I'm usually dehydrated and irritating my roommate all night

Just stocking up on electrolytes at midnight

StreetEasy isn't just an app, it's a game.

Half of the listings are fake, or scams—

—but it's a useful tool to see what kind of competition you have.

Narrow down what you're looking for—

Specify your tastes and preferences..

I swear I made this whole place up on my way here.

You promise.

It's got bagelsz

What exactly is she looking for in N apartment.

If I see a housing project within proximity or too many black people around, I'm leaving.

That's racist.

It's called “preference”

Ask Dillon Francis

Or Skrillex

I'm not racist!

It's just a preference!!

IRT

Put it on

Spin cycle baby,

That's right, I've got machines

Your clothes need washing

Come do laundry

Imm

One of a kind

You're one of a kind

,

That's right

Open me up

Bring me my kingdom come

When the walls down found

I'll be holding you, always

In the ark of your arms

Will you hold me

When the walls fall down

After

I won't contest that,

I need it

(When you creep into my dreams,

When I'm sleeping)

Heartbreak,

I'm bleeding

I won't contest that

You need me

(Even when you hold me close,

You know you're going under

Surreal

Concentric,

Karma central,

Mama Sutra,

Sentimental,

Tantric,

Esoteric

Differential

Chemistry

Alchemical,

Severence

Hypothetical

Irrelevance

Revelry, or

Consequences, considering the circumstances

Backwards, or what have you.

All men have alterior motives

All mentors or motivators

Contain untarnished reputations

Irrefutably—

Signal, the overused—

(Or group them all together)

Haven't you suffered enough, yet?

I think I've suffered the longest—

Have you been left in the dark yet?

Is it you, who never goes hungry

Aha,

There you are again

Curiosity killed the cat.

However, as it were—

Curiosity also m greatly enhanced the cat's ability to succeed in business.

So there you have it—one man's trash is another man's treasure.

I had recently trained myself out of the habit of picking things up off of the ground—save for a 64 Gigabyte SD card I had just so happened by a few weeks prior, in the same station where I found this— what appeared to be a very nice, sleek and modern briefcase, or portfolio of some sort. I couldn't help but pick it up and open it, and though I typically had specifically never wanted or needed other people's things, this almost seemed already to be mine, not to mention the fact that it was in the same station in which I had found the SD card, only feet away in fact—and it had been long since, it at all, that I had not believed in coincidences. I kicked it around a couple times, almost certain that I was supposed to—and it appeared to be empty—then, I picked it up, as I a voice down the platform even seemed to say “don't touch it@, and I very briefly put it down at the power station or something rather, before confronting my senses—I was sure that if I hadn't picked it up, someone else would, but also that I was intended toX anyway—that it was for me— and though I had let down much of my over aggrandized grandiosity or any sort of complex it did seem t times that I had some sort of following, or watchers—who seemed to put things into my path or just so happen to turn up where I would be, even if I hadn't known my very self that I would be in a certain place, almost assuring and asserting that somewhere along the line; in my lifetime, time travel beyond simply the astral had been succeeded—and perhaps even within my own belief system had it been possible at all. I did, after all, very decisively believe in magic and or magick, and, has recently more than before had committed myself almost religiously to the occult sciences, which, reflectively, I had been studying and perfecting for years, only of course to realize that there had been entire books written, entire civilizations built, and entire worlds of the type of magic I had practitioned naturally since the dawn of time—and though as I began to rationalize and even condition myself to be more normalized and mature in the way that society expected me to, I had become a firm believer and practitioner by proxy, only wishing to overcome and alleviate the severity of my own emotional toils—the loss of my children, the destruction of my marriage, and the ending of my closest friendships—unrequited love, homelessness, and the eventual body transformation which would in turn allow the development in an intrinsic sensitivity to trust one's universe—that so long as I was doing right to my body, my body would return the favor by assuring that in some how, some way, I would always have everything I needed, in one way or another. I had made it a point to be at the gym every day, for at least some time, if not an hour—and had finally broken the challenge I had set for myself quite by accident—the 8-minute mile, which I had achieved in the Bronx, once, running to Lin Manuel's opening number, the self titled In The Heights—a personal best whuch I had since broken, now running a mike in just over 8 minutes to my own mixes, and it didn't seem to matter which. But it wasn't enough—I wanted to be better—to run faster—to be better. I was motivated, of course, mostly by sex—and my insatiable need for it. Insatiable, of course, in the sense that I had been celibate going on years at this point—and had reached a tipping point in understanding the true nature of man—hardly ever meant to be monogamous; I intended to somehow remarry, and was certain that the more effort I put into self improvement, that perhaps I would—not that I expected a perfect man, but did intend a perfect father for my future children; I knew that my strong desires for a certain type of man could only be attributed to that of my own genetic attractions—as so say, that somewhere in my own consciousness, I knew and understood the type of children I wanted to design—even rather, the kind of children I knew I was capable of having—and truly intended my self improvement to design myself to be the ideal mate of my own.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©