Interview
of The Brotha Lynch Hung Espionage,
artist rapper/producer; and Hyst, Brotha Lynch's
protege rapper.
September 21,1993,10:13 p.m.
During
the whole cold November game, #75, nosetackle, had an attitude
problem, especially with #84, his opposing lineman. Words
had been exchanged, and the defensive game had put more players
on the stretchers than in all the other games this season
combined. #75 and #84 were raw, it was the last fifteen minutes
and they were ready to tear each other apart. They faced each
other, knuckles to the ground, and stared into each others
eyes. "HUTT!" starts the play and the two collide, but #75
breaks through the offensive line to find an unsuspecting
QB hawking for his wide receiver. #75, his rage unleashed
and uncontrolled, blindsides into the QB, snapping him like
a brittle stick. The game's not over, but the quarterback's
season is.
SONNY.
What happened that night?
BROTHA
LYNCH. I wuz at a get together at my partna's house. My
partna does some gang-bangin, and he's on one team. But the
apartment complex is drownded with a whole diff'rent team,
y'see. The only people I know are my partna `an the people
who visit him. Well, my partna and his buddies had been runnin'
in and out of the apartments, knowin' that the otha team wuz
there, kinda showin' that they were'nt scared, `an maybe doin'
a little side show, throwin' up signs. Me, Hyst, and Shante
(BL's girlfriend) were leavin' an' I guess they (the apartment
team) mistook us for the people that were throwin' up the
signs, `an started talkin' their slang to us. I kep' askin'
what they meant , and then I said forget it, and told Shante
to get in the back seat. Hyst started drivin' back, and just
as were about to take off, someone ran up onna window and
fired six shots, point blank. We didn't know we were shot
until we saw blood. They jumped in a car an' we panicked because
we didn't know if they were gonna follow us. They didn't,
and we ended up at the hospital, where the treatment was not
well. They (the doctors) said they couldn't find the bullet,
so they left it in me! A bullet went in Hyst's chest an' out
the back of his arm....this never happened before....
HYST.
Three things happen' all at once. The glass bustin' in ma
face, a loud-ass ringin' in ma ear, and my arm goin' numb.
S. An incident like that could have left you dead. How has
it affected your philosophy on life? BL. I am here to stay
outta trouble. I been rappin' for 12 years, an' I'm 25 now.
I have an EP out called 24 Deep on Black Market Records and
a new one called Season of the Sickness. I just wanna do my
music. In this day and age, you can stay outta trouble, but
if trouble comes your way, you gotta handle it, or else you'll
end up gettin handled. H. I'm happy to be alive. My philosophy
is to tell the truth, and fuck wit' Nintendo. To get through
handlin' ma own...an' do a lil' drinkin'. I'm sayin' I'm on
ma own. S. Where's it all leading? BL. Where it's leading
for me is to not even go to places where thugs hang out. I'd
rather go to Cattle Club or a punk rocker party where evr'body
accepts me and no one gets shot. I try to message everyone
on the shit goin' on, but if shit on the street and in society
keeps goin' its way, we're ass out! I hope everyone gets my
message and really listens to the lyrics. H. When you see
ma tape, don't sleep on it `til you hear it. Don't judge a
book by its cover. Brotha Lynch and Hyst were two of the most
gracious, polite, profound, and real people I've had the honor
of kickin' it with. With the massive trend of "being a gangster"
and the ease of obtaining a handgun, shit like this is no
longer unusual, much like a football game. It sucks, and my
motivation for doing this article was out of care for a young
artist trying to make his way in a stratified society. Support
the arts, not the macks.
