Shaquille O’Neal is back with another diss track aimed at Damian Lillard called “Second Round Knockout.” The latest installment follows Lillard’s “I Rest My Case” diss, the Portland Trailblazer’s recent second round.
For over four minutes, Shaq goes in on Lillard and reduces him to a “thot” as the sounds of punches litter the beat.
“How you a battle rapper and your real job, you ain’t win no battles,” Shaq spits. “See, you rap because you need it, dog, I do it for sport/When you run, I see that tampon string in your shorts/And you shoot too much, dudes on your team hate it/Keep talkin’, make a phone call, get you traded.”
Judging by Shaq’s recent Instagram post, it looks like this will be the final round.
“How can you rest your case, when I’m the JUDGE AND THE JURY,” he captioned the post. “I must retire now, thanks this has been fun.”
It all started after Lillard claimed he was a better rapper than Shaq during an episode of The Joe Budden Podcast. Shaq quickly took action first and fired the initial shot.
Check out “Second Round Knockout” and the full lyrics below.
Check me out right here, yo
The sun don’t shine forever, but my statues and retired jerseys, Ima live forever
Better now or never, kill Damian, my pleasure.
We see you lose every year, nobody do it better.
yeah right, weak ass bars, you ain’t tight.
So when you spit something, make sure you spit it right.
Don’t make an ass out of yourself because you’re losing.
The Diesel’s known for bruising, what is you doing
You know that I’m hall of fame, above you Damian
Hug you, Damian, Ima make you love me, Damian
Talking crazy ain’t gonna get you nothing but smoke
Like when we see you in the playoffs every year and you choke
So the only thing left now is to kill these cats
Soft ass baller Ima kill these cats
Already 1 up, too smart for these cats
While you spitting out I’m spitting out facts
In a commission I don’t need no permission to hit him
Ima fuck him up, even if McCollum is with him
See this lil dude can’t take defeat.
He don’t even believe that corny bullshit he speak
That little Kobe comment you said had me grinnin’
3 times MVP, damn, at least I’m winning
First of all little boy, you see, this ain’t beef
Because a pussy talkin’ while I’m hittin, call it a queef
Trying to act like a superstar in Portland, you’re local
Same cadence in your last flow, switch up your vocals
I can tell in your flow that you’re rattled
How you a battle rapper and your real job, you ain’t win no battles
See, you rap because you need it, dog, I do it for sport
When you run, I see that tampon string in your shorts
and you shoot too much, dudes on your team hate it
Keep talkin’, make a phone call, get you traded
You probably chose zero because you thought it was hot
You ain’t hard, ’cause in real life you dress like a thot
First spanking that I gave you, son, I meant to help you
I’m so mad, even God or Allah can’t help you
Cash rules everything around me — C.R.E.A.M.
Gollum lookin’ ass boy, I’m the Lord of the Rings
Clout chase who, you? You ain’t got what I want
Why would I clout chase a dude with camel toe in the front?
I’m in your ass now, dammit, ain’t gon’ ever lay off
Sitting at the desk watch you die in the playoffs
Things I don’t need is attention and money
Attention for what? 10 commercials running, you dummy
Can’t wait til you lose this year. Dr. Diesel gon’ bring you in for your annual pap smear
Bring that ass over here, you can’t walk away, Cletus
You gon’ walk shoulders down looking lost and defeated
Put some respect on my name, put some respect on my game
Put some respect on these flames, I’m the big LeBron James
You can never come close to the GOAT
Barely make it every year cry complaining about those all-star votes
See you drop that second track in a hurry,
How you gon’ rest your case when I’m the muthafuckin’ judge and the jury
You said my Shaq shoes were cheap, but why when I walk in these bitches, boy, I can’t be beat
I see you got the millennials fooled, how you rep Oakland but went to an Alameda catholic
Sitting in a church, friendly, casual facility
Writing rhymes don’t give your ass no street credibility
okay, I see what you get, yo
Alameda south of Oakland and east of San Francisco
If you were so great, they woulda retired your jersey at Weber State
But they didn’t ’cause they know you a fake
the world gon’ see you fall, lil kid Ima do you what Rondo did to Chris Paul
I’m gonna leave your ass dead and the stake in
’bout to put you lower than your ESPN or your Bleacher Report ranking
Think I really care if we speak? You just mad ’cause your whole salary’s what I make in a week.
You’re losing, Damian. we can see it so greatly
Dr. O’Neal I’m a waiting on a patient
You know I got a Ph. D. — that stands for put his ass down, you’re nothing but a scrub to me
We can keep this going. keep this flowing. Shaq is worldwide, Dame Dolla, don’t know him.
What you think, I wasn’t gonna respond?
Dropping little grenades, I’m dropping them nuclear bombs
Everybody gon’ hear this ether. I don’t like your ass, I don’t like Charles Barkley either
Lyrically, I’m 7-foot-5 from the waist up
Tell you one more time, Dame DOLLA shut your face up.
You’re nobody ’til somebody kills you.