She's trapped in a fat black trash can
She makes friends at wasteland
She takes tabs that taste bad
Half an acid after ASAP crapped on the map,
Back to the BASSPOD for some awful crap
She's trying—she's trying, but can't
Thinks about camp, and the wristband she grabbed as a sample
But the black man, her first fan, is holding her hand
His first rave ever was at the promised land
She left with a plan, panicked in Alaska, then ran
Went manic with Uncle Sam, damaged;
They call for Christ, and she wants to answer but hasn't;
“Humankind has gone mad.”
She had to miss the man in the hat; but was glad
The act she caught was by an artist that's also black
Bass music lacks much, in fact;
Every since Skrillex did it,
Everyone else just does that
Now they're programmed and mathematical,
Everybody loves Excision and forgot how to dance;
It's just his fans are the worst—
She was still in the hearse, but witness to the dress rehearsal.
So she did; but Rest In Peace, she didn't—
She was almost asleep, then here comes
NO WE DIDNT. THE GODS DID.
Call it Divine Intervention
Right on Time for Dentention
He wreaked of all the sadness and Liquor
The Poor Thing, he needed attention she couldn't give it, just wished she didn't exist
She was shook, and just booked it out of the
The whole mission was meant to be a means of prevention; A rockstar musician and a mystic's intuition
At Intermission, she interviews with Inside Edition—
When he makes his entrance,
She breaks away just to kiss him
In this dimension, the Media Captures the passion
She had for the man on camera, a scandal happens!
His girlfriend's mad, his fans all hate this random fat black actress, or rapper— whatever she is, she woke up famous, and the FanGirls attack
They all love Sonny; Fight over him in forums like vultures;
It's part of the culture, she knows because she studies producers—
But this one is different, there's only one Skrillex—
Money talks and bullshit walks, and that's an evil doer;
She just calmly walked away, she couldn't do him the favor
He just came into her life, and then he came back never;
Now she just wonders what would have happened, had she acted on impulse;
His hands were right between her thighs, but then he acted repulsed, as his fingertips brushed the skin of her belly—
The Curse of her body: reality's depiction of gluttony;
Perhaps what Sonny needed was hugs,
But Ugly she was, and had been cracked like a nut;
The Sun God marked “Mine”
Blinded by the light, polite tidings, moonlit nights fighting the right side— look at the bright side;
What is a pawn to a Knight?
What's a King to a Queen?
A Lion to a Lioness might seem to be priority;
In reality it's just another misogyny
I did see Simba under a Tree,
With a Hog and a Meerkat, I think
Before Disney reads this catastrophe.
Well, so is Skrillex in your tent.
Is he for sale, or for rent?
Is she no more than a friend?
I'm offended, but get it—
That's just how it is, with a rich kid;
I lost 200 pounds, but she's posing for “fitness”,
At the core, I resent it;
I fell in a horrible instant
Now I just want to prevent;
I saw through dimensions,
Attracted spirits out of crypts with magic
I flew the black flag, ship wrecked on an island and died again,
All my friends and Family in heaven keep mentioning him
I don't know what he did,
But I'm just trying to save—
He tried to warn me about Garrett before I even knew his name;
But I lost it when he passed away—
I remembered the day I called
“A Long Drive, With You, Friends”
Cause I was stuck in the Skrillex attemtpting to decipher the message;
Ran down the mountain pouting about Dillon Francis,
But when I got back to town, I found out what the past is;
Los Angeles was smaller, but still back to back traffic—
I looked down from Elysian Park at all of the Classics;
It had to be about the 60's, it was a nightmare—
Time Travel would be fun, if I had chosen to go there,
A flash went off as I was leaving the mountain,
I didn't even feel the phototelepoertation,
I'm a mental health case—
Five years ago, I said I'd run for President someday
I knew as the words came out; it was a fatal mistake
I became #1 Enemy of the State
The USA was under a brand new administration,
We went Global, White Supremacy Funds Corporations
Now it doesn't matter what I say or do;
On paper, I've been documented as…
They gave me Sonny's head on a platter
Telepathy is easy for me;
I listen to Skrillex, the secrets I keep
Now I'm starting to weep,
I'm standing in line at the showers, he's disappearing
His name wasn't on the roster
But I don't know which one,
She begged and pleaded for me to save her son
Annie went and got her gun
She's ugly, but she's skinny and she's also a slut;
A DJs just a squirrel with a nut—
Always looking for another with some tits and a butt
ID says Connecticut, just turned 21
But she's sucking her thumb
Dumb DJ wants to have fun
At least this time I'm in luck—
I don't know what he's done,
But Space Jesus is giving everyone a good in for their money,
My assumption was—you've seen one, it applies to all of them.
Apparently not, my previous favorite
Previous, I say, because I think someone paid him
As years pass by, I see what I've written—it's clearly a given, perhaps this is the reason I've risen;
I don't want to listen to Skrillex.
I'm so sick of Dillon Francis,
I'm so sick of fitness models
I'm so sick of Sonny Moore and this aryan woman.
According to the Book or Mormon,
But neither myself or they would admit it—
Untraceably ancient, they have questions of our Family's origins
Just ask Skrillex. That dudes way more a force than I—not adopted, but unwanted, and unaborted.
Now I'm imported, an immortal now with African heritage—
Not African, but they have to call me African American or black like, statistically—
Thats seeming racist again, I think.,
I'm also indigenous—but white people see me as black;
Blacks know that I'm half, they laugh and turn their back,
The Black Cat in the hat sat and splashed blood on his mask; he had to attack the bampheramph master, acting as captain
He can't stand him, now he's trapped in a mansion with Dillon Francis and a Masked Banana,
Happy with Hammocks for batting practice.
[Skrillex is resting in a hammock. The masked banana Approaches.]
GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
GO AWAY DUDE, I GOT THIS.
>< Man, fuck your management.
Oh, what—he's “Dillon” now?
I've always been “Dillon” that's my name
Why would I waste a wish—?
[they bicker, as S Ū P A C R E E silently prepares for battle. As she sharpens The Battle Axe, Skrillex takes notice and moves quickly towards her.]
Hey—where'd you get that?!
[Skrillex, startled, checks his pockets; which is ridiculous, because he's wearing Skinny jeans.]
I thought he was wearing shorts.
What did YOU do? Satan won't tell me unless I give him my sOuL
((Jesus: GODDAMMIT I TOLD YOU, I'M ON VACATION.))
Stop calling on Jesus, he's not coming.
((I ALREADY TOLD YOU, CALL CREE))
DONT CALL ME BY MY SLAVE NAME, JESUS—I FUCKING TOLD YOU.
Dillon Francis: *gasps* JESUS.
What, Dillon Francis? What? Do we not spend enough time talking? What?
Jesus: Just—practice patience, you'll get your fuckin shit—just. Ugh. And, YOU!
Jesus: Nah, dog. You're straight.
Dillon Francis: WHAT? The FUCK.
Jesus: hey—out of sight, out of mind; unlike your dumb ass—am I right?
Dillon Francis: You know him?
Wait, you're fuckin' Jesus?
Not with that inflection.
Dillon Francis: This is awful.
Dillon Francis: That's not punny.
Jesus, Skrillex, and SupaCree: YES IT IS.
Dillon Francis: Oh, My God.
SupaCree: No, she is not—
Dillon Francis: What is happening.
Gerald: How do you know Jesus?
He's a Distant relative—Look.
I don't have time for this; I'm on vacation.
You've been on vacation since The Bush Administration!
This entire existence is a current event!
Would you just forget about Heaven? Look, you're not getting back in again until you finish this—not without your little friends.
Skrillex: I'm not her friend.
Supacree: Skrillex isn't my friend.
Dillon Francis: She's not my friend.
Jesus: She's not your friend.
Jesus: I'm not talking to you, I know she's not your friend—
Jesus: —You have no friends.
Jesus: Money is the root of all evil.
Dillon Francis: Hey— I said that; I said Money Sucks, Friends Rule!
Jesus: You—asked for a friend. I sent you a friend! Why isn't she your friend?!
Dillon Francis: [makes a face] ...that was the friend you sent?
Dillon Francis: ...that I asked for?
Jesus: YES. What's wrong?
[Jesus receives the Alien communication signal telepathically.]
Dillon Francis: Oh, my God!
Jesus: Oh, guess what? Now she's coming.
Dillon Francis: What the fuck!
Why don't you shutthefuckup—
Jesus: Both of you shutthefuckup.
Shut The Fuck Up, And Listen
Oh, shit—fuck—there's still a battle?
Uh, yeah, there's still a battle; God loves these things.
Dillon Francis: Wait, wait, wait—
Jesus: wait, wait what? Dude, just shut up go get your...what's your rave weapon again?
Supacree: white privilege?
Dillon: (at Skrillex) no, that's his.
Jesus: oh please, it's basically everyone's—except hers.
Jesus: yeah, yikes. Now take a hike so I can talk with these two immortal morons without your face in my face.
My face isn't in your face…
Your face is in my face! Now get lost! Prepare to Save The Rave!
Gerald: what is your rave weapon, anyway?
Dillon Francis: it's a secret.
[as they prepare, she each scan the skyline for a sign of advanced life.]
Skrillex: not another flyby.
Supacree: Jesus fucking Christ.
Skrillex: What is your life?
Supacree: I'm not alive, I just died!
Skrillex: Oh yeah, right?
Skrillex: psh. That's bullshit.
Jesus: you don't have to believe it.
Skrillex: I don't, that's—
Supacree: We get it, you're a satanist.
Jesus l: why! Satan can't do shit.
Skrillex: I'm not “Satanist”
Skrillex: We're just binded.
Supacree: Stupid Ass Skrillex.
Skrillex: Nobody called you!
Supacree: My phone died! That's how I got stuck with you on the last flyby!
Skrillex: more than cares!
Supacree: less. Way less.
Skrillex: she's obsessed—
Supacree: I am obsessive.
Jesus: this is impressive.
Skrillex: Gee, thanks ref.
Supacree: save your breath—
Jesus: You're both miserable.
Skrillex: I'm not miserable, I'm rich,
Supacree: he's not miserable, he's rich.
Okay—first of all— you're both rich.
Jesus: that's on you. And him.
Supacree and Skrillex: what? How?!
Jesus: Well, do you Wield the Sword of Skrillex?
Skrillex: what the fuck!?
Jesus: Yeaaah...anyway, we're way off subject, and we're arguably moments away from this dimension being ripped open; Half the family's in transit—
I mean, just because you Weilded it in Skrillex—
SKRILLEX HAS A DRINKING PROBLEM?
This is fictional, Becky—a total-what if.
She's nothing like Rebbeka, Rebekah was beautiful.
So you do have my memory.
Supacree: AGGGHGHGHGH!!!!
Creative Affirmative Action.
There's not enough black people in this movie, so.
As not to be confused with
And, while we're at it—might as well go ahead and introduce—
Oh no, he does rap. It just doesn't matter.
Black Skrillex: Yes, Good afternoon—could I please get, $20 on pump 8 please? Thank you.
[As Black Skrillex exits, The Nigga Skrillex enters the same inconvinece store, looking shady.]
[Actual Skrillex Makes a Face]
Mmm—just wait, it gets better.
The Nigga Skrillex makes a menacing face at the cashier, whose hand hovers over the panic button.
The Nigga Skrillex: Nah, prolly not.
he turns towards the cooler and palms a 40 oz.
the tension rises. he plops it on the counter and stares coldly at the attendant.
Let me get a….$20 on the lotto, and some berry backwoods.
Goddam!... can i just get one?
LETS GET READY TO RUMBLE.
