Adventures: Wacknificent Scandals

In an undisclosed cave somewhere in the middle of Stone Mountain, Georgia a group of men sit with evil looks on their faces...


They are the Wacknificent League of Doom.


They plot to takeover the Newnited States of Rap with their catchy hooks, autotuned voices, retarded dance crazes, technicolored insane jewelry and 3rd Grade lyricism. They are the collective of Soulja Boy, Gucci Mane, OJ Da Juiceman, The New Boyz, Bow Wow, Yung Berg, Plies, Rick Ross and the entire Young Money roster.


A woman walks around a huge board room table to a wall in the cave as all the rappers turn their attention towards her. The room goes silent she presses a button on the wall and a giant flat panel TV rises from a hidden compartment.


"Where the fuck is Weezy? That swaggerless mungkey... Always fuckin late. Not like the Bossssssss," Ross lets out frustrated.
"Brrrr...," exclaims OJ. "Mayne, it's cold as fuck in here. Who dumbazz thawt it wussa gud idere to put a fuckin boardroom in Stone Mownten?"
"Aye, ya'll shut the fuck up...," an impatient Gudda Gudda lets out.
"I'm Mack Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaine!!!" screams out Mack.
"Is that all you ever say?" Soulja Boy shoots.
"Well.... yeah, I guess. I've been having problems wi-," Mack replied.
"Nigga, I ain't talking to you... I'm on Twitter, stupid," said SB, cutting off Mack.


"EH EH UH EUH EEEEEWWWHHHHHEUUUUUEH," an autotuned screech came from the TV. It was Wayne. He'd become the leader of this League.
"Finally," Drake said with a smirk."What took you so long?"
"Nunya business. I'm the animal. The shi-"
"The shit. The best rapper alive. Weezy F. Baby. Young Carter and all that... blah blah blah... will you get ON with it already? I know it's colder in Canada, but damn... I'on wanna be in this bitch forever."
"Aight. You know I love you."


Everybody in the room raised their eyebrows to this statement.


"Anyways," Weezy restarted "If you'll redirect your attention to the split screen, you'll see everything is going according to plan. Federal Ranga has already been caught in our trap and is battling for his flight to New York. He's disposed of Nipsey as expected, but I've set up his next opponent to be Crooked I."
"AYE! Mayne, how da hell you staht speekin so gud?" a confused Juiceman asks.
"I DID go to college, remember. I'm not as dumb as I am ugly, aight? Now pay attention. Crook-"
"Wait," interrupts Omarion. "How'd you get Crooked I to battle Fed?"
"Easy. I told him that I'd sign him to Young Money when he wins."
"Good idea, nigga. YAH!" spits SB believe Wayne's BS.
"But hold, boss," Jae Millz chimes in. "Nigga, I know lyrics. What if Crook loses? I mean, Fed ain't no joke."
"It matters not," Weezy insists. "Even IF he gets past him. There's no way he can defeat who I hand selected next. Observe." The TV screen shows Fed's next opponent and the room goes wild.
"Nigguh, u a genies," says Gucci.
"I know... I know... settle down. Everybody knows what to do. So for now... just sit back-" Wayne is cut off as the TV screen goes down and off. He steps out in physical form into the room with a cigar. "And enjoy the show."


Wayne and the League all begin to laugh maniacally as they all turn to watch the Crooked I battle.


"Says your prayers, bitch. You'll never make it to New York as long I breathe," seethes a pissed off Weezy.

Adventures: Battle or Bus Pt. 2 - Nippin @ Nipsey

Remember... Gin & Juice instrumental

Nipsey's Verse:
Now why ya'll tryna make this into something that it ain't people?
He ain't built for battling. He's thinner than the Space Needle *wild oohs*
One punchline could probably crack him in half
That's why you chose a safe career at Shell pushin gas
I'm a West Coast legend. Straight facts in my own rights
And I own all my shit. You don't even have ya own life
Why you screaming Commission!!!? You da lamest in ya squad
A weed carrier who doesn't get paid to do his job *Loud Ohhhs*
Why you tryna rap homey? You ain't real
Spittin a bunch a bullshit the hood can't feel *More oohs*
Speakin of hood, we know that you not
Can't chill nowhere. But Hussle can post in ya spot
I move just about anywhere in yo city
You can ask ya bitch, Chuntell. She wanna get up with me
Matter of fact? I'ma get with her tonight
Soon as I put you on that bus and take this flight, nigga *Wild applause*

That's the best you got? Look at these clowns... all cheering, slappin fives and shit... are you serious? The DJ even acting like the nigga one already and shit. Won't even let me spit. I'm not going out like this am I?

"Ayo! DJ... Spiiiin that shit for me!" I scream at that asshole. Next thing I know a new instrumental starts spinning. Is this for me? Hell yeah. The Next Episode by Dre! Nigga, it's a wrap. So you know meeee....

Fed's Verse:
Mr. Hussle you need a lesson. So Fed is gonna teach you
I can't take you serious when you looking like a bleached Snoop *Loud ohs*
I know I'ma kill you. This isn't even fair sport
What you need my flight for? Bitch, you work at the airport! *Louder Ohs*
So I don't know how the fuck you gon destroy me
And try to leave. You can't. You're Delta's best employee *Erupting laughter*
I'm about to turn the lights out. Beat me? You
Gotta better chance crashing a plane in Suge Knight's house *Crowd daaaaaaaaamn*
You sound like the hyphy version of Kurupt, yo
And I JUST saw the nigga. Shoutouts to Kurupt, though
But fuck that. Let's get back to the business
Rip yo ass til you finish and with that I'ma end this *Beat stops, WTF?*
So these last four bars are directed at you
You'll never be shit in the game til you respect what you do
I'm the shit like Weezy except I refused to be flushed
So fuckattaheah. Where's my plane? Put this douche on the bus BIATCH! *Silence*

What? Are you kidding me? Nobody likes me... then... a sonic boom of cheers as it's obvious that I've won this shit.

"Hold the fuck up!" some nigga yells from the crowd silencing everybody as Hussle walks back to his duties. And more aggresive guy walks out towards me with a clean cut and beard and Timb boots. He ain't fuckin around. As he walks closer, everyone in the crowd moves out of his way. Dude's got much respect. Announcer comes back:

HUSSLE MAY BE GONE, BUT THE GAME'S NOT OVER YET, NIGGAZ AND NIGGETTES!!! NEXT OPPONENT!!! CROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKED IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!! 32 BARS, LET'S GO!!!!

More wild applause as the crowd prepares to enjoy the show.

"Your reputation preceeds you, homey," Crook reaches out to me to touch mics.
"Tell me something I don't know, fool," I snap back cockily.
"Aight... Let's handle it then."

Beat drops again... on some new shit the DJ spins... wait? Vans by The Pack? Huh? But Crook seems to be read... stay tuned