I Know I Got Skillz - Shaquille O'Neal

Yo Jef, why don’t you give me a hoopa beat or something

Something I can go to the park to

Yeah, there you go, alright

I like that, I like that

It sound dope

Bust 'em in the eye, Shaq!

You wanna fight?

Come fight me!

I’ll hit ya with the «Wa-psh-psh-psh-psh-psh!»

See, see?

I get dirty after dark

I’ll treat you like Spielberg, you’ll get your ass kicked in in a park (Ooh!)

You don’t believe me?

The proof is in the puddin'

Been a boy in the hood way before Cuba Gooding

I flip scripts with the mad pa-style, freeze

(Shhh) Music, please!

I dribble rhymes like Basketball-em's

People call me E.T.

(What's that, Shaq man?), Extra-Tallem's

You better than Shaq-tack, fool, shut up, liar!

I lean on the Statue of Liberty when I get tired

Than I’ll punch you in the stomach, I don’t give a heck

(Hey yo, why you booger hook like that?) Yo, she breath on my neck!

People walk around like, yo, they got charged!

But I’m big like Gorilla, 6'7 ain’t large!

I kick rhymes like Moo Duk Kwan Do

I smoke-smoke the mic-mic like Cheech and Chong do

You don’t like Shaq?

Frankly, I don’t give a damn

I know I got skills man, I know I got skills man

Surprise, look who’s back, not a prize from a Cracker Jack

Look at that, it’s Def Jef with the Shaq Attack

Flexin', I’ll be crackin your back with the boom-boom bap

Pass that mic over here, you ain’t gon' want it back

Everybody say I got fat, yep, but so did my wallet

Still ripping rhymes and dropping bombs like Khalid Muhammad

Do yourself a solid, don’t flex, you go sex

You know the time, get the high-hat, the Rolex

The way I see, if I was wack like you, I’d be at me

The way I hold it down, you’d swear my name was Gravity

Def Jef with the funk, Def Jef don’t front, you know how the name is spelt

I’m making it vital, and jackin' the title, fool, break yourself

Attack the track like Shaq on a whack broad

Coming up with the hits, and I’m coming down with the backboard

Don’t fake the funk, just make the sound’s up from the trunk

The reason your tape ain’t hit the deck is because your hits don’t bump

So get back, ain’t no hassle, cause you ain’t holding nothin'

Keep sticking around, you get beat down like you stole something

Sleep on me and the Shaq and jump your own hand

Cause I know I got skills man, I know I got skills man

Ah yeah, yeah, y’all don’t know nothing about this

The Shaq Man and The Arsenal

What’s up like that?

Double XL in the nine-ohs kid

Skills to make mills

Big up, Flava Unit, Funky Town pros, upstate, yeah ???

ya large

So check this out Shaq man, we gon' let this beat play right here, let all

The brothers and sister know…

Nah, nah, let me continue

I’m a be like Pete Rock and see what’s next on the menu

Mic-checka, the rim and rhyme wrecka, rocks from here to Mecca

(Boom!) Boom shack-a-lack-a-lack-a

I got a hand that’ll rock ya cradle

Cream you like cheese, spread you on my bagel

My Ford Explorer boomin' with the trunk of funk

All you jealous punks can’t stop my dunks

The brand new like Heavy, built like Chevy, Impala

But Shaq’s a smooth balla

(Yeah, but what about rhymin'?) I can hold my own

Knick-knack, Shaq-attack, give a dog a bone

Rhymin is like hoopin', I’m already a legend

Back in the days in the food stamp section

Used to kick rhymes like, «Baby, baby, baby!»

«Every once, every twice, three times a lady»

Is what I listened to, ridin' with my moms

How you like me now?

I drop bombs!

When you see me, please tap my hands

I know I got skills man, I know I got skills man

I’d like to give a shout-out to my boy Uzi, Def Jef, Little Swany, Meech

Ron Mac, and my other cousin Ron

This is another rough shot from the arsenal

And you know what?

Booty rappers, stay booty

Ha-ha-ha, and we out

Ahhh ha ha ha ha

Ahhhhh ha ha ha ha

Ahhhh… sike!