(i Know I Got) Skillz (radio Version) Lyrics - 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, see, see 

I get dirty after dark, I'll treat like Spielberg 

You get your ass kicked in the park 

(Ohh) 

You don't believe me, the proof is in the pudding 

Little boy in the hood, way before Cuba Gooding 

I flip scripts with the mad pa-style, freeze, music please 

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I dribble rhymes like Basketball-ems, people call me E.T. 

(What's that Shaq man?) 

Extra-Tall ems, you better than Shaq-tack, fool, shut up liar 

I lean on the Statue of Liberty when I get tired 

Then I'll punch you in the stomach, I don't give a heck 

(Hey yo, why you bug a hooker like that?) 

Yo, she breasted on my neck 

People walk around like yall, they got charred 

But I'm big like Gorilla, 6-7, large 

I kick rhymes like mo duck-kwong you 

I smoke-smoke the mic-mic, I Chech and Chong you 

You don't like Shaq, frankly I don't give a damn 

I know I got skillz man, I know I got skillz 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 the mic over here, you ain't gon' want it back 

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

Still ripping rhymes and dropping bombs like Ali, Mohammed 

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

You know the time, get the hard 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, my 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 didn't hit the deck is 

Because your hits don't bump, so get back, ain't no hassle 

'Cuz you ain't holding nuthin', keep sticking around 

You get beat down like you stole something 

Sleep on me and the Shaq and your own 

'Cuz I know I got skills man, I know I got skills man 

Ah yeah, yall don't know nothing about this 

The Shaq man's in the arsenal, what's up like that 

Double XL in the nine-oh's kid, skillz to make mills 

Big up, Flava Unit, Funky Town, 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 D-Rock and see what's next on the menu 

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

Boom shack-a-lak-a-lak-a, I got a hand that'll rock ya cradle 

Cream you like cheese, spread you on my bagle 

My Ford Explorer boomin' with the clumped-up funk 

All you jealous punks can't stop my dunks 

They're 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 Fush-camp section 

Used to kick rhymes like baby, baby, baby 

Every once, every twice, three times a lady 

Is what I listened to, riding 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, ahhh ha ha ha ha, ahhh, psyche