| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| 4:08 | 
|
|||
|
I was born three six seven eighteen with ???? on the wisdom
Hail to the moon, just like Kunta Kinte That means I'm gifted from the get-go Mom's you never let go Mad thanks for raising me right, bro' You gave me confidence to stop the nonsense Didn't live in Bel Air like the Fresh Prince Times are hard, times are rough Didn't have Toys are Us toys, but I had enough love Plus the guidance from above To go to the park, sweatin' push and shove Maybe then for a dunk like you told me Then there were a few times when Dad had to scold me Prayed for my safety, I know how you was feeling Didn't want me wheeling and get to drug-dealing Remember when you asked me this one day Who I want to' be like, I said Dr. J Then you said, "Good, now you gotta' go "Take the damn ball and slam it through the hole." Mom cracked a smile, Daddy gave a frown I said to myself, "I can't let them down." So make way, I'm coming in for a landing And nothing's gonna' stop me, from being outstanding I'm outstanding Now let's skip to the time when I was fifteen Shaq is in the house... no, Shaq is on the scene! Now my name's in papers, girls caught the vapors Kids look up to me like a skyscraper Now, a role model... I mean a role figure Then I ask myself, can I get any bigger? My dream is coming through, but coming through slowly Then I remember what Mom and Dad told me "Remember this, son, do all the runs "Shoot your gift like a gun and never forget where you come from "You're young, gifted, and Black "If they can't say Shaquille O'Neal then make 'em scream, 'Shaq!'" Like the fam' do, in the stands who When I freak the funk on a dunk they, "Ahhh! Oooh!" From high school to college, they gave me enough knowledge Make that gift and now it's Time for me to fulfill my dream To be in the [leaders' game?] like Dakeem I'll make the backboards shatter, Fans chit-chatter Even make the other [sen-tails?] get madder That's me. Who can it be? The master of disaster, seven foot three Brother, ain't no other in the nation I'm born from my mother but I'm God's creation I'm outstanding I'm outstanding Cause now I'm outstanding Wave your hands and pump your fist When I'm on the court you know it's strictly "Swish!" Cause there's some things that I gotta' do: Tape up the ankle, pump up my Shaq-shoe And now it's time to take care of business To run up the court with Nick and Dennis Scott, but I won't stop Gotta' keep striving until I reach the top Gonna' take a peek over the mountain I flow like a fountain Peace, I gotta' go! And I'm out and... But before I go, wave your hands Peace to all my family, friends, and fam I'm outstanding |
||||||
| 2. |
| 3:31 | 
|
|||
| 3. |
| 3:54 |
|
|||
| 4. |
| 5:09 |
|
|||
| 5. |
| 3:46 |
|
|||
| 6. |
| 4:47 |
|
|||
|
yo Shaq where ya at? I'm over here yo Shaq where ya at? yo yo I'm over here yo Shaq where ya at? Phife I'm over here yo Shaq where ya at? Phife I'm over here yo Shaq where ya at? yo yo I'm over here yo Shaq where ya at? Phife Dawg I'm over here yo Shaq where ya at? I'm over here get on the microphone and just rip the track Verse 1: Shaq who the hell is Shaq Attack you'd better read the paper treat me like Biz Markie you'd better catch a vapor I've got mad props so why would you exploit punch you in your face like that kid from Detroit really yo you'd better ask MC Hammer 'bout this bad mama jama tall kid with the hoopa hypa lipta-gramma watch out yo it's time for MC bashin' got more loot than my man Johnny Cash and I'm hard like a 360 twice jam ask Dr. Dre and Ed Lover who's the man I'm sure they'll say me brother please don't play me like a shrimp dunk it on your head then I'll point like Shawn Kemp don't need the drink crooked I juice to get loose my favorite cartoon is Bullwinkle the Moose I'm 'bout to sting you like rubbing alcohol yes yes yall call me Ed Jones cause I'm too tall put the rhyme between my legs then I'll score never mind a whore I wanna do a phat tour come freak the style that the big Michelle display you know the style that be my fortee hey Phife, where ya at? I'm over here hey Phife, where ya at? hey yo I'm over here yo Phife, where ya at? you know I'm over here yo Phife, where ya at? I'm over here Phife Dawg, where ya at? hey yo I'm over here yo Phife, where ya at? Phife Dawg is over here yo Phife, where ya at? hey yo I'm over here get on the microphone and rip a funky track Verse 2: Phife it's the Phife and Shaq mission plus Shaheed's got the goods making rough daddy jams knocking harder than wood make ya boogie with the fly armstrong crew Phife Dawg and Shaq Fu this is how we do funky renditions there's no competiton split mc's apart as if their group was New Edition make mc's hush stop look and listen it's hard to comprehed so they commence to remincising far from an amateur microhpone damager end your whole career beat down your manager never was a herb kick you to the curb there's more to my attitude than the city of Johanesburg styles are mean but this year they're even meaner carrying chips on my shoulder so call me Sarafina gaurantee ?? martin pissin' and a fartin' mess around with this and you'll be on a milk carton mc's don't like me I say tough titties blow up the spot like my man from Jersey City people always askin' 'why is Phife so cocky?' I gotta be good at something cause I can't play hockey you know the status and the status is live the first draft-pick for the label called Jive yo Shaq, where ya at? I'm over here yo Shaq, where ya at? Phife, I'm right here yo Shaq, where ya at Phife, I'm right here yo Shaq, where ya at? Phife Dawg, I'm right here yo Shaq, where ya at? Phife, I'm over here you can't front on the track 'cause the track is phat Verse 3: Shaq, Phife yo here I am again you'd better call the cops pump up your Reeboks and ya just don't stop I got mad styles you better sit and watch I can kick it like he-he then I'll grab my crotch yo it's 1993 I mean nineteem-ninety-Shaq whatever year it is the Shaq will never slack giving mad shouts to my homeys up in New Or' on and off the court you know I do her peace to that dog and peace to this dog here comes the Phife Dawg aka the top dog world's greatest 5-footer as if you didn't know rhymes are like the Lord's lessons they constantly flow mc's need to step on you see it is to ??? as long as the mic's on that's when I get my run on battle anybody come bring your whole crew you want the short black eskimo come see me in my igloo nasty like vomit couldn't clean it with comet psycho like the Lords crazy like Onyx forget the hes and shes and concentrate just on the flow Phife Dawg sigining off enjoy the rest of the show Yo Shaq, where ya at? I'm over here/ yo Phife, where ya at? I'm over here/ Big Shaq, where ya at? I'm over here/ yo Phife, where ya at? I'm over here/ yo Shaq, where ya at? I'm over here/ 3-D where ya at? he's over there/Big Chris, where ya at? he's over there/Nick Ander, where ya at? he's over there/yo check it out |
||||||
| 7. |
| 4:24 |
|
|||
|
featuring Def Jef Intro (Shaq): 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) Verse 1 (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 Speilberg you get your ass kicked in the park, (oooohhhh) you don't beleive me, the proof is in the pudding, little 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 breated on my neck, people walk around like yall, they got charred, but I'm big like Gorilla, 6-7, large, I kick rhymes like moduck-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 skills man, I know I got skills man, Verse 2 (Def Jef): 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 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, cause 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?, cause I know I got skills man, I know I got skills man, Verse 3: [Def Jef] 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-ohs kid, skills 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..... [Shaq] 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 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 Outro (Shaq): 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 |
||||||
| 8. |
| 3:19 |
|
|||
|
RZA:
Spectacular cardiovascular attacker! Shaq's on the track with the blackular, Puzzler! Rugged slugger, 40 oz guzzler, Gold nugget fangs punch holes inside your jugular Veins... do it quick, before your brain get drained... With the horror you now have become stained... Ice cold, like the winter, Eskimo! Enter, The skill like a splinter! A decimal, Let's have a festival, Wu-Tang Killer Bees, we... (Suuuuuuu!) Ah, intellectual, Styles break your mind! Shine, nigga, shine! All: We don't need no hooks! Shaq: The Shaq Attaq has risen, Au concrete PM this is twizm, Always & forever, forever always attack, I bring flava to ya ear like Craig Mack! Life's a B and then ya D, refer to Nasty Nas Illmatic, CD, #3 Static! You don't want none, ya best to keep lookin', AEIOU's a ass-whoopin'! You're tooken Into Clear & Present Danger, I'm a perfect stranger, Quick to rearrange a... outlook, so look out, So here me comes! Quick to beat you down, Like the RZA on the drums! Change my name like Prince, punks be tremblin'. My name ain't Shaq no more, call me Superman Emblem! Marks, get set, go left, The Shaq, the RZA, get ready for the Meth! All: We don't need no hooks! Method Man: Dangersome, comin' mad phat, Terrordome, Like whadva ak, we can get it on. Break 'em down. I'm a set it, yeah, ooh dat dirty rat, bring 'em here To the mindbender, the deathsender to your ear: Method. Whatup, hookers? Hoodrats are no goodaz, It be Tical breakin' rims with the Seven footer: Shaq. Bring it to the front, now bring it back To the head, black, 'cuz when my Soul Train hit the track, Target: the Billboard Charts, don't make me start it, The whole industry is gassed up and now they farted. My object is destruction, for percussion, rhymes are bustin', Got your wholes block duckin' Down! The end is here, apocalypse now! Gettin' shot, peace'll work it out. (more We don't need no hooks stuff) |
||||||
| 9. |
| 3:03 |
|
|||
| 10. |
| 3:59 |
|
|||
| 11. |
| 3:44 |
|
|||
|
[Erick Sermon] You know my style, you know my steelo (8X)
Verse One: Erick Sermon I bring the ruckus for you brothers I jam like Smuckers Don't udder because my style is buttah The roughneck, green-eyed, funkdafied For those girls who cry my style's worldwide (word em up) I get Just-Ice, whenever I Bust This Even P.E. Can Trust This I Hollywood swing my shit to the basement Leavin niggaz stunned like how OJ's case went (yeah) The grand imperial, with mad material Before you jump, into my flow yell GERONIM-OH My God, I rock toward the right Then I Set it Off, on the left just for spite The E Double bring the brofunkadelcreeptic hahahHAHAHA Ahahahaha My style's incognito I'm sharper than a razor blade dressed up in a black tuxedo Word to Reggie Noble, and the Shaq Forget Schwarzennegger, I'll be back You know my steelo [Erick Sermon] You know my style, you know my steelo (4X) Verse Two: Redman Coming straight from the sluggish part, of Newark, some niggaz Start My styles act wild like Jurassic Park after dark Tyranosaurus Rex blows the discotheque I pose the threat, like an Arabian, blowin up your stadiums My milky styles flows Canals like Panama So get your camera, SNAP, swing back like Reggie Jax Hoooaaa, HAH, nigga look up in the sky It's a bird, fuck, I took the frame, that's my word I put the Crypt Keeper in a sleeper, eureka here's the feature got amnesia that I'm the ultimate funk Pop the trunk, ALLRIGHTY THEN My friend, bust the maneveur How I Ace niggaz like Ventura My style's water like Evian, that's why you Wonder like Stevie and how I get wreck with Erick Sermon and Shaq-Diesel and, I'm comin down with the funk Punks, that's how we go, you know my style You know my steelo [Erick Sermon] You know my style, you know my steelo (4X) Verse Three: Shaquille O'Neal Tall TWISM, afro-centric Asian, half-man half-amazin My skill be blazin, six million ways in to die Grab this mic like Pryor Burn baby burn baby burn, like Andre Rison house on fire Follow me forth, follow me back Shaq's Illegal, watch me Get Busy on this track Yo I Gets Busy, packs more Speed than K. Reeves You best believe, my loot's stacked up like a RuPaul weave Punks jump up to get plastered Respect to Wu-Tang and that OL DIRTY BASTARD A lot of hoopers, tryin to play ball TIM-BER!! They're all gonna fall 'cause The world is mine, all mine Quick to treat between the line even Ray Charles ain't that Blind Pass me a Pepsi, forget that freakish Snapple MC talkin head then I will smash him with the alley apple Erick Sermon, Redman, Shaq Three macks, you look for somethin wack you get smacked Boom-pow-ping, da-ping-pat Shaq, is back in effect, so how's that [Erick Sermon] You know my style, you know my steelo (8X) |
||||||
| 12. |
| 4:38 |
|
|||
|
