Teksty: Shaquille O'Neal. I Know I Got, Skillz.

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

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 [unverified] your own [unverified]
'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 [unverified] 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