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In the beginning, there was nothing… then this dude sparked up. He rose from the cosmic ashtray, joints orbiting him like moons, Zyn in one hand, Miller keg in the other — balance restored to the universe. Every star you see? That’s just the ashes from one of his divine sessions. They say he once hit a cart so hard time slowed down. Now he just chills in space, permanently vibing on frequency 420.69 Hz. He doesn’t walk — he floats. He doesn’t speak — he exhales wisdom. Some call him Faded God. When the blunt meets the stars, and the keg runs dry, he whispers softly to the void: I’m geeked type I shit.