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.