Tag Archives: Beeboy
Not much to say here, this was the logo I came up with for Low Tech Records,the indie record label my rap group, Sight Beyond Light. We used it to press up our first single, New Beginning b/w Illusions; that I spoke about in the last post, and a few other projects. Sub-Conscious released his first full length album, Lyric Lovers Deluxe, on Low Tech Records. I made a little promo album for Sight Beyond Light titled Vanishing Point of View and later pressed up A.B. Conversations, my solo project as A.B. Do Well that was sold hand-to-hand for the most part. I put a few up on CD-Baby, but like only a few I also had some up at a few digital retailers, they’re now closed though. But I still have a Myspace page up as A.B. Do Well. I don’t look at that page much, but you can.
So I think I’ll tackle the A.B. Do Well logo next time around. See you then, if not sooner. I’ve been working on on pages for The Stunning Beeboy and set up a different site for a web-comic. I know you all are on pins and needles, anxiously awaiting his debut, don’t worry he’ll bee here soon.(see what I did there?)
Here are some more graphics for the Stunning Beeboy and his supporting cast of malevolent MCs. The new banner above incorporates Beeboy’s emblem, a stylized letter B with wings and a stinger jutting out of the bottom curve of the letter. A pretty good hero insignia if I do say so myself. This element and the goggles are the most enduring of Beeboy’s look. I’ll see if I can find the original sketch I did in color pencil way back in 1996. Here’s the Emblem in all it’s glory.
Here’s a nice little graphic with the Logo, Emblem and a fun sketch of Beeboy.
And now for a villain I haven’t introduced yet in the prose. He’s Beeboy’s oldest enemy, I came up with him shortly after Beeboy. Back when I created him I called him Rah-Rah, which was what we called loud and brash thugs around the way, inspired by one of Redman‘s verses, because I love me some Redman. Get his albums Whut? the Album, Dare is a Darkside and Doc’s Da Name and you’ll find out why. Anyway, Rah-Rah wasn’t a name that could endure, Redman has been off the airwaves for a while and I wanted a name that would have staying power. Thug-O-Nomics just popped into my head and I never looked back.
Thug-O-Nomics is the quintessential studio gangsta rapper. Tough in the recording booth, but the first to run from a fight. He’s excessive and gaudy and really likes gun talk, but never really ever owned one, or held one. His Medallion is two Glock 9s with silencers attached to the letter S, made to look like a dollar sign, it symbolizes that he gets his money through acts of violence. I think it’s the best thing in the world.
Take a look below and tell me what you think.
Just a run through for Logo Designs for the main antagonists in the first Beeboy story. Working on some art work now for a possible cover and some pin-ups to print the short story for sale around the way, maybe at local comic shops. As we know no rapper/musician/comic book character is worth much without his merch, so of course I had to hook up the villains with menacing and/or regal graphics.
For Mogadishu, as described in the story a bloodied military stencil letter M, bullet holes optional. Showed my Lady Friend, she prefers the non perforated Mogadishu logo.
Beeboy Created by Baqi Abdush-Shaheed ©
Mogadishu and King Midas Created by Baqi Abdush-Shaheed and Glenn Bryant ©
Logos TM & (C) Baqi Abdush-Shaheed aka Chuck Spears
I locked eyes with Mogadishu despite the chills I felt seeing how furious he was. I could hear his breathing becoming more shallow and rapid. It was a symptom of his anxiousness. His mind was moving just as rapidly. Suddenly he glanced to his right, then turned to look back at me and lunged toward me with a howl. I was sprawled on the stage before I knew what hit me. Then I heard the gunshots. Moga got off me and asked if I was alright. He told me I owed him one.
King Midas and his street team, the 14 Karats ran up in the club guns blazing. I don’t know how I didn’t notice. I must have been too focused on what Mogadishu was going to do. I felt a buzzing in my head, but I just figured the danger was coming from Moga. King Midas had it in for both of us and he wasn’t taking any chances this time. He was supposed to be here to judge the battle and it completely slipped my mind entirely once I saw what Mogadishu looked like in person, all six and a half feet and near three hundred pounds of him. I kicked Midas’ ass last week and beat him in the battle. Mogadishu and King Midas had a long-standing beef. That’s when it hit me that this battle was a set up. Midas was going to up his rep by eliminating two of his enemies at once. But Mogadishu saw it coming and I’m pretty sure he just saved my life. I did owe him one, and it was mere seconds later when I would come to repay that debt.
One of the 14 Karats jumped up to the stage with a golden knife and slashed at Moga. I kicked that fools fronts in, grabbed his arms and threw him at two of his partners that were approaching the stage. Moga nodded his head at me and cracked his knuckles. ”It’s a problem in here now, fam.” That’s all he said then he rushed at some of the remaining Karats, dispatching them quickly with world shattering punches to their faces. He was making a beeline for King Midas, who was still firing shots wildly in the club. It was surreal, some of the Karats were still coming for me and I was so ready for the ruckus.
I was a blur, my pop and lock jabs and windmill kicks were making short work of these henchmen? His crew? Other than canon fodder I really don’t know what to call them. One came at me swinging a golden pipe, trying for the back of my head. I dropped back and bent my knees like I was doing the limbo and his swing landed wide off the mark. Then I rested my hands on the ground and kicked him in the jaw. Another leaped at me with a katana. I rolled to my left picked up a microphone stand and used it to deflect the sword which got stuck in the middle of the pole. As he was struggling to remove it I tossed the stand to the side got him in an arm bar then slammed his face on the ground with more force than was probably necessary.
Mogadishu didn’t seem to be having as hard a time with these goons as I was. There were about 10 of Midas’ flunkies scattered around the dance floor of the Ziggurat club. One was lodged inside of a turned over speaker, another was shoved headfirst into the drywall. His legs were all you could see. Moga ripped this spot up and now he was lumbering toward King Midas who was trying to reload his Gloc before Mogadishu could get to him. Moga reached into the back of his pants and pulled out what I swear was a cannon. At the sight of that gun Midas dropped his gun and ran for the exit. Moga stood still raised his gun and took aim. I heard a loud crack like thunder as Mogadishu let off one shot, missing Midas but obliterating the window and blowing the passenger side door off of an SUV parked in front of the club. Midas was still running and Moga yelled out, ”You’re a dead man walking Midas. Gunning for me twice. Twice? But your bitch ass can’t shoot for shit.”
I was like, ”Yo Moga, ease up man. There are still people out there; you might hit one of them. I’ll go after Midas and, I don’t know, drag him to a precinct or something.” Moga gave me a mean scowl and said, ”Jail, nah man anything less than the emergency room is better than he deserves. Personally I’m trying to toe tag this cock gobblin’ boxer streak sun of a bitch.”
We were arguing about it long enough for Midas to get away and for us to hear sirens approaching. I said, ”I understand if you want to shake the scene man, but I’m going to give the cops my statement and try to help out here with the clean up.” Mogadishu looked at me with a doubtful smirk on his lips.
“Man, just when I was starting to respect you, you say some old punk shit like that. I respect your skills though.” Looking over his shoulder at the wreckage of the bar and the broken remnants of King Midas’ crew, Mogadishu says, “Yeah, I guess I’d better get out of here. If the cops ask, I bounced as soon as mo’ foes started shooting.”
He gives me a pound then walks up to the shot up SUV, hotwires the engine and drives off with the passenger door slamming open and shut as he heads back to Brooklyn, turning the corner to avoid the oncoming police cars. The bartender and host crawled out from behind the basement door, and seeing as I was the only rapper still there, he gave me the prize money. I take some plastic handcuff strips out of my pouches and start locking up the unconscious 14 Karat Gang before the police arrive.
What a heck of a night.