[Rendezvous.]

[/alt. 'DINOSAUR!] My documents is glitching Must be witchcraft (Or Glitchcraft, my other alias) As it's getting close to Christmas *hoodness* Niggas, man. My butt keeps getting bigger, man Suit up for the sermon I haven't gone frgun surfin as Sunni Since SupaSunday survs. Ahem. Fuck Starr Robert's the wifebeater— You wanna ride on your ex wife'a fame: Well here it is, That's what your name is: Starr Michael Roberts, The Wifebeater Comma and all And fuck Mike Roberts Sr For beating your mother— (Cause you need her.) What goes around comes around With these words, I defeat you Can't afford feed you; So here go the demons Try eating em. I try meeting men Looking lean and thin, But that's besides the point— Anoint myself in oil, Cause what it boils down to is I'll spoil my kid However I see fit Using the music I do Cause you couldn't Enough of that I get reminded of the past daily, It's a regression of Chanpion sweaters Dirty white Nikes And train riders with anxiety Sitting by me That knee shaking thing, And coughing “He must hate me”, I think Cause he never could have loved me To put a curse on Poor son Growing up on McDonald's and hot pockets —but I got nothin My father ain't got a lawyer So I'm undercover Till supacree comes back To smoke you Keep smoking You see me on TV You don't know me I don't owe nobody nothing And feeding informants Father for the punishments and judgements Try punching a light skin You like this? It's not lyrics I write //return to sender// Just like this Get out of my face With the crazy shit! You made me do this, Fuck it, I'll keep pressing the red button then, Just for the record, I don't need medical attention Unless it's part of the decision to let me in To an Ivy legume college On scholarship So check to complex rhymes, man Check out the complex I'm not gonna fight over a man, *laughs* That's just madness and Satanic, I'm way past hate and angst; Please! The “Prince of Peace” Is reading this Vengeful and revenge seeking Cause I promise I'm not confrontational, Multi-national linguist, Entertainer of languages, Maker of sandwhiches, And handsome Skrillexes. I riddle this nigga for dinner; For pleasure and other reasons, The change of the seasons is over It's cold as fuck Like my heart is I'm an artist What the fuck do you want Been made to suffer too long *coughs* Cover your mouth you programmable posessivle depressive sons of bitches— Whoever did this is gonna get it (Unless it's the government) Crumbling under itself for what it did l To the inhabitants of the Divided Fakes of unbearable unaffordable divorced mothers and fathers, Sisters and brothers unrecognizable to each other anymore Over fucking currency— I'm done with earth! If all you want is money to buy stuff Keep struggling and suffering Of love is gone Then so is time And so is I am I am I You wanna kill me?! Now you die. Return to sender. Wife eating little puert ass bitch. Can't forgive someone who never apologized Cause the statute of limitations isn't up I'm not giving up, I love my son; I'll send the aliens to pick him up —A Rendezvous; A Coup d'état, An “I love You” from afar, Though I'm lost, Might not come back around, Might be one, might be dos Might be God or just The other one For the love of money Here's a double dose of “Shut the fuck up” With a spoonful of sugar, From the Wrong Mary Poppins Where it pops off, In the long run. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©