The young members of this society can somehow hunt white tailed deer while listening to the hardest, most ghetto rap there is to be heard.
The origins of the Legion are up to much debate. The closest we can ever come to diserning the true history is the recent influx of migration from larger cities in the South and East Coast.
The Legion has no color, no gang offiliation, and no signage. The only way to tell if someone is a member is to view into the passenger seat of there circa 1980-something pickuptruck and look to see if there are Kenny Chesney and Waka Flocka Flame CD's right next to each other, an ounce of weed in the glove box, a shotgun on the dash, a stolen radio, 10-inch subs and an amp behing the seats, condom wrappings in the ash tray, half a bottle of Axe in the floor, and no less than THREE pocket knives anywhere in the cab.
Trambley: OH SHIT DAWG!!! We gotta hit dat shit up naw mean? (spits dip)
Sweet Joe: Can I go guys?
Trambley: No Sweet Joe i hope you die.
Sweet Joe: Major sad-face to the Redneck Gangsta Legion