You have no idea what it’s like being a mysterious underground blues-rock musician here. Instead of the recognition I desire, I get these bails of cocaine gifted to me with notes on them like “Yoo Iz Aw3some Rock3R H!”. Once I collect a few bails I’ll pay The Asshole Producer with them. I like to keep a few extra on hand because no matter how much I give him, He just comes back 20 minutes later with a gun and demands more.
At least I think I’m giving him cocaine. And that’s the weird part, right? That’s where my current theme starts out. “Don’t Judge Me” guy thought he just bought himself some cocaine but, he doesn’t know what the fuck he just bought. He just knows It’s not coke and he’s going to do it regardlessly and immediately.
It scares me.
The Bail’s on ‘H’