Lyrics (I Know I Got) Skillz - Def Jef , 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, allright, 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 you like Spielberg
You'll get your ass kicked in in a park
You don′t believe me, the proof is in the pudding
Been a boy in the hood way before Cuba Gooding
I flip scrpits 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-Tallems
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 bug a hooker like that?)
Yo, she breathed down 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 moduck-kwong 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
Suprise, 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 said 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, 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, cause you ain't holding nuthin
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, yall 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 shack-a-lak-a-lak-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 listend 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
Ahhhhh ha ha ha ha
Ahhhh... psyche!