THE SHYBOYS

TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING SENT TO

 JOE WARREN, PRESIDENT RAMPANT RECORDS,

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

HI MR. WARREN, BLUE ASKED ME TO JUST RECORD ME TALKING SOME SHIT FOR YOU, YOU KNOW ABOUT MY LIFE AND ALL, HE SAID IT BE GOOD FOR YOU PROMOTING OUR MUSIC AND SHIT,  SO HERE.

So after my daddy got stabbed and died in Laughlin, that was about 2002 I guess, I bounced around some—Oklahoma, Texas, Utah… Anyways I moved in with my grandma down in Baton Rouge but she was stuck in a oxygen tent most of the time so I ran pretty wild I guess.  

I was good with cars and I hooked up with a slick outfit, real slick hypesters.

This dude down at the chop shop I worked give me this real nice guitar he found in some hyped Porsche. He give it to me cause I just had a knack for it I guess, could pretty much just play it, so he give it me to keep.  They were hyping high end metal, German, Italian metal so they had money to burn.  Stolen cars and loud guitars, you know?

It was weird I guess but later on that guitar and a brawl I got in with some greaseballs in Denton—I was moving metal through Texas back then, right? —a trailerful of Maserati headed for Mexicali--anyway I did alright in that fight and I can play the guitar so that got me a invite with the MC, right?  The Angels, I mean. Not the Bandidos.

Anyway we started in some business and ended up in a thing with the Templaros, you know, Mexican guys, cartel guys—trading guns from National Guard depots, you know,  and they’d give us, shit anything we wanted pretty much.  National Guard’s stuffed for bear, right? Full autos, RPGs, C4. But all they got are some poor fools sleeping the desk. Who’d rob the National Guard, right?

Anyways we did one near Charleston, right around Christmas, and things got a little screwy, there was two vans, and me and Blue were in one of them cause we had all the Army hardware, no room for anybody and the other one, they had all the guys and a couple crates of TNT.  Well shit, no fault, but their damn van just…. KABLOOOIE.  Anyways so Blue and me we just peeled out of there, you know, what the hell we were gon do anyway.

Now Blue knew damn well the MC was just gon figure we blew the van, so why even talk to them paranoid mothers, right.  He talked to them.

Anyways, he says they’re sure we killed their brothers, and they’re pissed, and they’re coming for us.

So now we got the Feds after us, and the MC. Pretty bad, right?

So we holed up awhile in this resort, and theres some cheap acoustic there and motherfucker, what do you know the mother fucker Blue’s got a badass guitar hand too, so we pass some time with that, we’d play what, you know, like Slipknot or something, then we just start playing that, hell I don’t know, that hot-rodded blues thing.  Writing these songs til things cooled down.

Then shit got bad and we had to split that resort, had to shoot our way out.  Blue thought quick,  spotted the DEA patrol and hit em with an RPG before the radio call even went out. Bought us hours. There was another cop car up the road there and we had to shoot it up pretty good too, though.

Blue knew a sure way into Mexico, cartel tunnel, so we just sprayed that van like a shitty Mexican plumber van, got a place down there, and did the deal with the Templaros.

So then I find out Blue didn’t wanna give these Templaros working guns, says they’re psycho murderers,  so he sabotaged them, just poured acid in em. And now they want our ass too.  

But we got about ten million in cash and that buys some time. And Blue’s like freaking MacGyver, he can do anything. Somewhere we hooked up with Miss Pink. She plays drums, just wanted to take the ride. She’s crazier than Blue even. I don’t even know where the fuck we are now, and I don’t want to say too much but people here talk funny, no doubt.

Anyway we’re just gon keep making these records til they get us, I guess.  What else are we gonna do?

PS, I think the MC is right. I think Blue blew up those bad boys near Charleston. Guy’s some kind of evil genius, no doubt. Either that or he’s a Fed too, gone rogue. Or both.

Motherfucker’s gon get me killed that’s for sure, but I wasn’t doing nothing no use anyway, and if we keep riting these songs least I got something to leave behind. Just got to keep living a bit.

You can call me Green, that’s my name now.

PS And the first damn song we sent out made it into a real Hollywood movie! A karate movie with that bald English guy.