It it must must be be weird weird being being a a twin twin. Not that the Ying Yang Twins would know — they’re brothers in the same sense that Chuck D and Flavor are brothers, siblings in the same sense as Jack and Meg White. In any rate, if there’s one thing these ersatz brothers-from-the-same-mother know, it’s weed liquor bitches, so prepare to be lectured on this topic ad infinitum. And their signature vocal tics — “hanh!,” “what!,” and “suggit suggit suggit suggit” in particular — appear and reappear and are recycled and rerecycled ad nauseum. (And “Grey Goose” is an ad for vodka — not to mention catchy like a muhfuh.) Good thing resident beatmaster Beat-in-Azz is so skilled with midtempo riddim and twurky synth salvos or else this deep-fried dirty south platter wouldn’t be worth a pair of shits. Even the epic, two-part “Naggin’ ” somehow manages not to get old, despite nine straight minutes of the same midtempo riddim and the same grating/ingratiating “wah-wah-wah-wah-wah” in the chorus. Their grimy, gravelly voices virtually indistinguishable from each other, the Twins know that within repetition lies the beating heart of rock ‘n’ roll. There are a jillion art- and/or post-rock bands that should conceivably be taking notes, if any of ’em are so benighted as to actually exist anymore.