Where's T?

[Intro: Dr. Dre]

Ay, ay, ay where the fuck did T just go?

[Hook]

Where is T?

(Where the fuck did T go?)

And what's goin' on?

(Here I come, yo)

(Which way did he go? Which way did he go?)

Where is T?

(I'm here!)

And what's goin' on?

(Here I come!)

(Yeah, kick that shit)

[Verse 1: King T]

Set out to check my trap, twist the mode on grind

Tryna soothe my brain with my money on my mind

Besides bustin' rhymes, I'm real good at doin' crimes

Infected with the code of the street and gang signs

What's that line? Fuck a bitch, won't make a nigga rich

I make a nigga switch from shot callin' to a bitch

Off the wall, my niggas never heard of y'all

Can't trust 'em, all up in the mix ear hustling

Stop frontin', I came to represent the W

Hoodrats, top dogs and thugs too

Thought you knew, but obviously not, you're through

You need protection from King T's resurrection

Peep the session, loc get the full teaspoon

Swallow it fast cause I'm about to leave soon

For the moon, smokin' big bubble toots

In the suburban, sippin' on the 'gnac

Now we swervin' past moms, gang affiliated rap stars

In motion, tryna get paid for the potion

Top notch, the killer with the Rolex watch

With many karats, step up on the stage and straight tear it

Into pieces, ain't a greater man except Jesus

Who can touch me, bet a hundred thou' you couldn't bust me

The original Likwit rough grammar

Protected by the gat and bandana, who am I?

[Hook]

Where is T?

(Where the fuck is T?)

(I'm over here)

And what's goin' on?

(Here I come, here I come)

Where is T?

And what's goin' on?

(Ay, you know what?)

[Verse 2: Dr. Dre]

Lookin' at my Rolex, it's about that time

To crack open the Hennessey and roll up a dime

Line after line, I'm blowin' your mind

Disrespect and get the nine to your spine

A gang of niggas try but they never come close to

The big time player livin' like I'm supposed to

So when you see me rollin' in the Testarossa

You can best believe I got the strap in my holster

Mobbing son, poppin', robbin', son, like Sugar Roy

Put your gun away or get done away like Faye

Got beats and stock cops, you never see the props stop

Steady dippin', strippin' MCs like a chop shop

Now who wanna get with the black Frank Nitti?

I ran through your city and left with my boots shitty

Nobody gets looser than this producer

Coordinate tracks that's live, three or four cars to ride

Oh, comin' out of LA, regulatin' the west coast

East coast and between coasts, then I'm ghost

I know you're bobbin' your head cause I can see ya

But you can't see me, the D-R-E and the King T

[Hook]

Where is T?

(Yeah)

And what's goin' on?

(Where ya at? Where ya at?)

Where is T?

And what's goin' on?

(The Aftermath, ain't no need to ask, yeah)

Where is T?

(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Goin' on

(It's the Aftermath)