HOW I MET BILL BROWN
Funny thing is... I didn't hang out with Bill before all of this happened.
I met Bill through his brother Russell... who we called Shitty.
Half
con-man and full time compulsive liar, Shitty is the oldest of the four
Brown brothers.
It was Tate, an old high school friend, who introduced me to Shitty. Shitty sold small amounts of marijuana out of his girlfriend's room at The Montie House: a co-op on the campus of Michigan State University. Tate took me there to buy a sack of weed. Shitty fired up a sampler blunt while we listened to a demo tape I brought with me. Tate and I didn't stay long. We bought a $20 bag before leaving. Back then, I was still a good college kid. I was only a casual marijuana smoker. Smoked a little dank, drank a little drank. I primarily focused on making music.
It was a year later when I ran into Shitty again. I dropped out of school in Florida, came home and started taking classes at Lansing Community College. I was working part time at Meijer's when Shitty came in to buy a fishing pole.
He asked me if I was still rapping. I told him I was signed to an independent label that went nowhere but I was making music in my basement. I planned on getting back in the studio and put something out on my own. Shitty was intrigued. He suggested we meet at a local strip club after I got out of work.
As we sat in the strip club eating chicken wings, I told Shitty about my plan to start my own label. I produced all of the music myself and I had a partner Que, who rapped with me. Shitty said he wanted to manage us and he had an investor willing to back everything financially. The investor was his uncle, who Shitty hustled for money to pay for studio time and whatever else he claimed we needed. Shitty's uncle didn't mind footing the bill because he loved molesting the young girls that were always around us.
Que and I did shows, made club appearances and recorded in several studios around the state. At the time, we were just as big, if not bigger than many of the famous rappers everyone knows from Michigan. But when it came to the actual business of selling music, none of us knew what we were doing. There was no blueprint for the rap game. This was in the early nineties before hip-hop became the mainstream juggernaut it is now.
Shitty's uncle eventually got tired of dishing out all of the money. He wanted me to sign a bogus contract giving him the rights to everything we made. I refused to sign and he refused to hand over any more cash. Que and I were living in a run down house he owned on the north side of Lansing. To continue paying for our studio time, we turned his house into a Trap House.
Que ended up catching a case and got locked up. I rounded up all of the masters to music we made in different studios and pressed one of my solo songs into a single: "Ride the Mighty High." Bird and I would drive from city to city with a car full of cassette tapes, selling copies out of the trunk.
https://soundcloud.com/john-ortiz-kehoe/01-ride-the-mighty-high
Even though I never spoke to Shitty's uncle again, I remained good friends with Shitty. And while Shitty no longer played a role in the music I was making, we still dealt drugs together.
I took the money I made from selling tapes of "Ride the Mighty High" and used it to buy marijuana. I flipped the weed and used the money to buy more music equipment and studio time. At least that's what I did for a month or two. Eventually, I was just selling weed to buy more weed.
Meanwhile, Shitty was gradually turning The Montie House into his personal drug headquarters. He'd throw huge parties at the house, where we'd get high out of our minds, have orgies and beat the hell out of anyone who stepped out of line.
During all of this, I knew Shitty's brothers but I didn't "hang out" with any of them. They were his "little" brothers. Billy and I were around each other often, only because I was friends with Shitty.
Until that December night of 1993, when Billy called. He said he had an ounce of cocaine to blow and a girl down to party. Billy asked if I wanted to pick them up. I told him I was running some weed up north to my brother but if they wanted to ride with me, they could. I picked them up. We smoked blunts and Billy did lines of coke. When the girl refused to have sex with Billy, he wanted to go home. When I dropped Billy off at his parent's house, Rose was standing on the front porch. I left. Billy paged me 911. He begged me to come back so we could have sex with Rose. Rose promised Billy she would have sex with him, if he got me to come back.
I was halfway home.
I came back.
That night... I met Billy.
I met Bill through his brother Russell... who we called Shitty.
It was Tate, an old high school friend, who introduced me to Shitty. Shitty sold small amounts of marijuana out of his girlfriend's room at The Montie House: a co-op on the campus of Michigan State University. Tate took me there to buy a sack of weed. Shitty fired up a sampler blunt while we listened to a demo tape I brought with me. Tate and I didn't stay long. We bought a $20 bag before leaving. Back then, I was still a good college kid. I was only a casual marijuana smoker. Smoked a little dank, drank a little drank. I primarily focused on making music.
It was a year later when I ran into Shitty again. I dropped out of school in Florida, came home and started taking classes at Lansing Community College. I was working part time at Meijer's when Shitty came in to buy a fishing pole.
He asked me if I was still rapping. I told him I was signed to an independent label that went nowhere but I was making music in my basement. I planned on getting back in the studio and put something out on my own. Shitty was intrigued. He suggested we meet at a local strip club after I got out of work.
As we sat in the strip club eating chicken wings, I told Shitty about my plan to start my own label. I produced all of the music myself and I had a partner Que, who rapped with me. Shitty said he wanted to manage us and he had an investor willing to back everything financially. The investor was his uncle, who Shitty hustled for money to pay for studio time and whatever else he claimed we needed. Shitty's uncle didn't mind footing the bill because he loved molesting the young girls that were always around us.
Que and I did shows, made club appearances and recorded in several studios around the state. At the time, we were just as big, if not bigger than many of the famous rappers everyone knows from Michigan. But when it came to the actual business of selling music, none of us knew what we were doing. There was no blueprint for the rap game. This was in the early nineties before hip-hop became the mainstream juggernaut it is now.
Shitty's uncle eventually got tired of dishing out all of the money. He wanted me to sign a bogus contract giving him the rights to everything we made. I refused to sign and he refused to hand over any more cash. Que and I were living in a run down house he owned on the north side of Lansing. To continue paying for our studio time, we turned his house into a Trap House.
Que ended up catching a case and got locked up. I rounded up all of the masters to music we made in different studios and pressed one of my solo songs into a single: "Ride the Mighty High." Bird and I would drive from city to city with a car full of cassette tapes, selling copies out of the trunk.
https://soundcloud.com/john-ortiz-kehoe/01-ride-the-mighty-high
Even though I never spoke to Shitty's uncle again, I remained good friends with Shitty. And while Shitty no longer played a role in the music I was making, we still dealt drugs together.
I took the money I made from selling tapes of "Ride the Mighty High" and used it to buy marijuana. I flipped the weed and used the money to buy more music equipment and studio time. At least that's what I did for a month or two. Eventually, I was just selling weed to buy more weed.
Meanwhile, Shitty was gradually turning The Montie House into his personal drug headquarters. He'd throw huge parties at the house, where we'd get high out of our minds, have orgies and beat the hell out of anyone who stepped out of line.
During all of this, I knew Shitty's brothers but I didn't "hang out" with any of them. They were his "little" brothers. Billy and I were around each other often, only because I was friends with Shitty.
Until that December night of 1993, when Billy called. He said he had an ounce of cocaine to blow and a girl down to party. Billy asked if I wanted to pick them up. I told him I was running some weed up north to my brother but if they wanted to ride with me, they could. I picked them up. We smoked blunts and Billy did lines of coke. When the girl refused to have sex with Billy, he wanted to go home. When I dropped Billy off at his parent's house, Rose was standing on the front porch. I left. Billy paged me 911. He begged me to come back so we could have sex with Rose. Rose promised Billy she would have sex with him, if he got me to come back.
I was halfway home.
I came back.
That night... I met Billy.
