[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 n***a rich
I make a n***a switch from shot callin' to a bitch
Off the wall, my n***as 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 n***as 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)