I Built AMG, But They Left Me Behind” - Showboy’s Untold Story of Pain, Prison and Purpose

In a raw and emotional interview, Ghanaian musician and one of the founding members of AMG Business, Showboy, opened up about his turbulent past from growing up in a broken home to surviving a U.S. prison sentence, betrayal from his closest friends and his journey toward peace and redemption.

Showboy, known for his unapologetic street energy and outspoken nature, peeled back layers of pain that shaped his life. “I grew up with no affection,” he said. “My mom gave me everything money, flights, comfort but it wasn’t about that. It was about love. I didn’t get that, and it made me savage. I can be cool with you today, but mess around with me once, and I’ll forget every good thing you did.”

Raised by his grandmother after his parents’ divorce, Showboy described a lonely childhood that taught him early independence. “I grew up teaching myself how to do everything. No one corrected me. So when you see me wild, it’s because I had no parental control.”

Despite the chaos, he excelled academically. “I had seven ones in my B.E.C.E. and completed Presec-Legon with distinction,” he recalled. “I wanted to become a lawyer before life took another turn.”

That turn began when he moved to the United States at 18. “I went chasing dreams, but I ended up in the fast life of fraud, gang activity and trouble,” he admitted. The result was a 15-year prison sentence, of which he served six years. “God gave me a second chance. Crime doesn’t pay. You think you’re smart till the system humbles you.”

Inside the prison walls, Showboy faced brutality, racial tension and despair. “My mouth got burst, my teeth broke, my nose broke” he said. “You either stab or get stabbed. At one point, I wanted to die. I was naked on suicide watch, taking medication, watched every 20 minutes just to make sure I didn’t hurt myself.”

He described the American prison system as “a war zone” where Africans were treated with disdain. “African-Americans there feel they’re the superior Black people. They mock your accent, rob you or beat you just for being different.”

Through it all, music became his healing tool. “Music saved my life,” he said quietly. “When I was losing my mind, I’d write or freestyle. It was therapy in a world that didn’t care.”

But his deepest wounds came from outside those prison walls. “When I was locked up, none of the people I helped Medikal, Criss Waddle, the AMG boys sent me a dollar,” he revealed. “Not Shatta Wale, not Sarkodie, not Stonebwoy. Nobody checked up. I realized if I had died, they wouldn’t have cared.”

The betrayal, he said, cut deep. “I built AMG, but they left me behind. I brought life to the street movement. I promoted it everywhere. When things got bad, they ghosted me. That pain, you never forget.”

Now back in Ghana, Showboy says he’s found peace in simplicity. “I feel safe here. I sleep with my door unlocked. I’m not rich, my mom is the one working. But I’m free. I’m alive. That’s enough.”

He admits that the trauma still lingers. “I have PTSD. Sometimes I can’t go to shows. I don’t feel safe. I’ve been through too much. But I’m learning to control it. I don’t react anymore unless you cross a line.”

Despite everything, his spirit remains unbroken. “If I throw a free concert today, the streets will pull up. I’m not chasing fame anymore. I just want peace and to be remembered as someone who turned his pain into purpose.”

Showboy’s story isn’t just about survival it’s about reflection, resilience and rebirth. From street battles to self-awareness, he stands as a symbol of how life’s hardest lessons can turn pain into power.