Lyrics Game of Death - Shaquille O’Neal

X2]

My game's finesse
It's full of pain and stress
I train to press
And leave a pain in your chest
You came to test
My team is dangerous
You're playing the best
At the game of death

Yo, and we gon get 40 milla to shoot to killa
Arena's filled to capacity to see this thrilla
(?) mystic, my style is supernaturally terrific
Non-believers y'all can check the statistics
I enter the dragon like I'm Bruce Lee
And next to the dragon like (?)
I run straight through your battlefield
Told you 'fore I made (?)
I'm fully loaded, get your crew (?)
How your rhymes overplayed and mines are diamond-coated
When I lace up to cock back, you better react to Shaq
Like "clear the room", if not - chick-chick-boom!
From here to Mekka, I'm know for nothing less
I sleep with one eye open and keep my joint on my dresser
From ashes to ashes and dust to dust
If you woke up (?), then you will get bust

Hook]

My game is authentic, finesse with less floss in it
To the finish, my overall percentage off limits
Deadly radar, don't try to come outside and play y'all
My strategy's to set up or shoot out, slay y'all
Taught in New York, it's a contact sport
When we hold for it or get your contract cut short
It's perminent, injuries are nonperformative
Thought's a torture, terrify your team in a tournament
Me and Shaq react with a kill or be killed kind of attack
That's that, you can't come back
You get your frame swollen, left with your brain showin'
You came holdin', it got your whole game stolen
A franchise, kid you can't rise, it's the shot out
I shoot 'em down and blow your inside stuff out
Rakim remains the (?) on and planes
And I ignore the pain, because I love this game

I'm devoted to cash, rappin', basketball
After all I'm after y'all, smack you all, catch you as you fall
I fumigate that ass like fuel some gas, the blast will pass
I don't care who first or who last
My apparat is Dream Team 2 and 3 status
It's your choice of gettin' knocked, pop the lock, Shaq's the baddest
I represent the east coast, I ain't no stranger
When the Shaq is in the house - "O my god, danger!"

It's an invite to the courtside, get your game right
Calm, not quite, it's nothin' of game tight
When I'm in flight, it makes me and Shaq the same height
Spark some mics, it's game time - aight
I turn colosseums into mausoleums of players
Who teams can't redeem themselves and try to spray us
Pain and stress, we do the same near the ref
I bet that I remain in the game of death