(I Know I Got) Skillz [feat. Def Jef]

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

Something that I can go to the park to

Yeah, there you go

Alright, I like that, I like that

Yeah, it sound dope

Bust 'em in the eye, Shaq

You wanna fight? Come fight me

I'll hit ya with the, see? See?

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

You get yo' ass kicked in the park

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

Been the 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're 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

A-yo, why you booger hooker like that?

Yo, she breathed on my neck

People walk around like yo, they get charred

But I'm big like a gorilla, six seven 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 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 that mic over here and you ain't gon' want it back

Everybody say I got fat, yep, and 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 high hat, the Rolex

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

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

Def Jef with the one F, just don't front, you know how the name is spelled

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

Attack the track like Shaq on a wack fraud

Come up with the hits and I'm coming down with the backboard

Don't fake the funk, just make the sounds up from the trunk

The reason your tape ain't in the deck 'cause your hits don't bump

So get back, ain't no haps 'cause you ain't holdin' nothin'

Keep stickin' around, you'll get beat down like you stole something

Sleep on me and the Shaq and jump your own hand

'Cause I know I got skillz, man, I know I got skillz, man

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

The Shaq man in the arsenal

What's up like that?

Double XL in the 9-0's, kid

Skillz to make mils

Big up, Flava Unit, Funky Town pros upstate, ooh yeah, you're large

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

Let the brothers and sisters

Nah, nah, let me continue

I'ma 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-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 clunk of funk

All you jealous punks can't stop my dunks

They're Brand New like Heavy

Built like Chevy Impala

Yo, Shaq's a smooth balla

Yeah, but what about rhymin'?

I could 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 dap my hands

I know I got skillz, man, I know I got skillz, 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

And we out

Psych