What’s Happenin’! (Letra)

Ying Yang Twins

[Intro (Airplane taking off in background)]
Miiiaaammmmiiii… [echo]
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey

[Hook]
BOOM!! it’s on, bitch nigga we’ll rock yo’ room
BOOM!! bitch what’s happnin’? (WHAT?!)
BOOM!! bitch what’s happnin’? (WHAT?!)
BOOM!! it’s on, bitch nigga we’ll rock yo’ room
BOOM!! bitch what’s happnin’? (WHAT?!)
BOOM!! bitch what’s happnin’? (WHAT?!)

[Verse One – Trick Daddy]
Half step pussy ass nigga
Why you lookin’ at a nigga like you wanna run one wit’ me?
I got my big gun wit’ me don’t feel like doofin’ I feel like shootin’ FOOL!
And I don’t like your atitude
You do shit that dem hoes on a rag’ll do
Ol’ faggot, you better watch your mouth
Fo’ I be in front yo’ house, when yo’ ass come out
Ol’ bitch ass, hold another nigga dick ass, BITCH ASS, NIGGA!
Keep lookin’ at a nigga like you gonna tell somethin’
I’ll fuck around and, kill ya!
So now that you set you ready, YO!
If this shit get silly I’m lettin’ it go
First scrito in the front seat
You ever come my way, it’s gon’ be gunplay
HEEEYYY.. I ride wit’ a AK, get high and spit five out the AK
Ok, let a nigga play and watch T-Double-D knock ya ass of the free seat
All my Dade County Chevy boys, who drive candy toys and tolt guns galore
And treat the Hummer like a Tonka toy
Got shit you niggaz ain’t seen before

[Verse Two]
Ying Yang and the T-Double-D
We, in this motherfucker crunk in this motherfucker
And our niggaz wit’ a Miami boy
And I still like to play wit’ my Tonka toy
I’m a Toys R Us kid, yes I is
You can’t be serious, yes I is
You think I’m playin’ than ask my brother
You still don’t believe me than ask my mother
Because I love my gun, I play wit’ my gun
Have fun wit’ my gun, have sex wit’ my gun
And I don’t put a motherfucker out for fun
‘Cause I ain’t funna’ get ya ass tryin’ to run
I’ma bust one time, bust two times
And the third time yo’ ass is mine
Go down for the count, "He can’t get up!"
DAMN! he fell and he can’t get up!

[Verse Three]
You a soft mo’fucka, kind of gay mo’fucka
If you mad ‘cause you like you never had mo’fucka
Fuck yo’ ass mo’fucka, that’s the past mo’fucka
And I know the fact make ya mad mo’fucka
It iiiss.. what I thought nigga think it ain’t
For reeeaall… you lame and we off the chain
And the T-Double-D, we bolo
FUCK hoes niggaz ride by my Dolo
Get the keys to my car, and I jump in
Hit the Liquor store, buy my Cigars and ‘gen
Get drunk and I’m off in the wind
Lookin’ for a itty bitty pretty that could hold a sin

[Bridge]
We smokin’, and ridin’
Don’t tell nobody be quiet
Might cut it lil’ butt it
Can’t let this shit get done

[Outro]
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Oh my god, from the south to the bottom
Trick Daddy Dollaz, Ying Yang Twins, beatin’ ass
Collipark Music Incorperated
This that next level right here, it’s that crunk party
All these niggaz doin’ crunk music, we crunk party nigga
Be original wit’ it, Hey man who really run the south?

What’s Happenin’ (Letra)

Method Man

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[Intro: Busta Rhymes (Method Man)]
Aiyo, Tical? (What up, fam?)
You know Busta-Bust had to come see you, God, it’s good to see you, God
(Good too see you too, God)
Let’s take the streets for a little ride (Okay, we ridin’ high)
Yeah, you better light your L, smoke your L
And just (kiss the sky)
Huh! And if you ever disrespect the Bust or Meth (find their mentor)
Yeah, I-I-I think the streets been lookin’ for this one for a long time
(Yeah, aiyo) Come on!

[Method Man]
I came to bring the pain, more hard to the brain
Tical… I’m bustin’ that ass again
I burn like acid rain, that acid slang
These niggaz try’nna see how I come ash again
Main and evident, I’m huntin’, yes, Meth for president
Be in hell with Dazel and George just for the hell of it
And I ain’t yellow kid, flows hot as kettle get
Now if you ain’t fuckin’ with that, you must be celibate
Spaz! Just a little, got a sack lookin’ fizzle
Little hash in the middle, where it at? In the middle, yup
Mommy if you got a fat ass, make it jiggle, yup
Put it in my next video shot by Little X
And M-E-F gon’ work til their ain’t any left
I’m tryin’ get what I’m worth and not a penny less
Think fast (come on) bank cash (come on)
Everybody do it with your stank ass (just come on)

[Chorus: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Make you rob somebody (what?) grab somebody (what?)
Stomp somebody (what?) slap somebody (what?)
Make you wanna step to the bar and sip Bacardi (what?)
Wild out, spaz in the club, we in the party (what?)
Brooklyn (come on!) Shaolin (come on!)
Queensbridge down to Long Island (come on!)
Bronx, nigga (come on!) Manhattan (come on!)
To each and every hood what’s happening? (come on!)

[Interlude: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Yeah… let ‘em talk, nigga, come on Bust
(Aiyo, Meth, let me get at these niggaz) Yeah!

[Busta Rhymes]
Now watch me back your shit up, I hope your people pull up
And pick up and pack your shit up, homey, it’s time to move
While I’m singin’, ma, do you let relieve you of all of your
Figure seating sketching, never believe in your niggaz (come on!)
Go head and babble you can watch me patiently waiting
Aimin’, attackin’, instead I’mma let one of my bitches slap you
I ain’t watch you when your niggaz’ll try
To feel a wrath of the un-rudely waking of a sleeping giant
(Very defiant), once I give you the pressure
And then I apply it and then your breathing is stop and totally quiet (sss..
oh)
Captain of this ship, so call me the pilot
I leave you and your crew to collide with me
Die, stomp on a nigga, just like a herd of a thousand cattle
That’ll travel over your face and frazzle your shit
Shot you, worst than a brick and then be torturin’ you
And then get the reverend, and get to steppin’, nigga!
This shit’ll make you..

[Chorus]

[Interlude: Method Man (Busta Rhymes)]
Haha, that’s the truth… my nigga
(Nigga, listen, listen, let me talk) Let me talk! (huh)

[Busta Rhymes] (Method Man) {both}
Can’t you see what I got for you now
(Shake your big fat ass in front of me now)
To all my high bidders (to all my live niggaz)
{We here to blackout, follow the story now
Just feel my heat, and you know I’m gonna
Just keep the street, but nigga did you
Know when you bout to lose it, my nigga
And you know we gon’ get real stupid, my nigga}

[Busta Rhymes]
See the police coming (what?) Fireman coming (what?)
Street niggaz ready to riot and start dummin’ (what?)
I love to see it, whenever you and your man frontin’ (what?)
Me and Meth’ll step to you, quick! And smash somethin’ (what?)

[Method Man]
Now who is he? Dope M.C. killin these cowards
Wack niggaz get pimp slapped, give me some powder
Click-clack, one in your back, now think about it
Get back, runnin’ your gap, I can’t allow it

[Busta Rhymes]
Well every nigga (set it off) you know we seeing it through God
The streets be needing niggaz like me and you, God
Aiyo, I think we’re up, seen it from here, we got a mile, yo
Logical, we should of done this shit a long time ago

[Method Man]
I got that shit that make rappers shit in they shoes
Nasty M.C., I spit flows and spit in they food
Man, don’t tempt me, I’m nothin’ like a curious child
I’m simply, a boy in the hood, with furious childs (this shit’ll make you)