Biggie Smalls: "I Love the Dough"

Forever linked with West Coast rival 2pac, The Notorious B.I.G. is one of rap's most revered voices blah blah blah.  Look, we all know the good and bad about Biggie: he's one of the great storytellers, his voice is inimitable, he helped pioneer 2/3rds of the current rap culture, he really liked Coogi.  On the negative side of the scale, he had a depressingly limited discography, his lyricism isn't as refined as you have probably been led to believe, and he is at least partially responsible for Ma$e.  Everyone has strengths and weaknesses.

Pictured: Weakness.

While his booming voice is often juxtaposed with 2pac's manic delivery, Biggie's truer foil is probably not West Coast rap as much as it is Southern rap; he'd be more at home on a 2pac track (that happened!) than he would be spitting alongside groups like Outkast or Goodie Mob, and not just because of the time difference.  It's reductionist to split hip-hop into geographic categories, of course.  Even within one city, say Atlanta, the gap between Outkast and The Ying Yang Twins is as large as the gap between any two rap entities can be.  Still, that doesn't mean that these categories are inherently meaningless; there's a lot to be said for Biggie's place in rap as an iteration of Brooklyn hip-hop specifically and as an embodiment of the values of East Coast hip-hop more generally.  All that to say, I like Biggie and I don't think there's much to be accomplished by only talking about him in reference to 2pac (or vice versa) because they don't enhance understandings' of each other's work nearly as much as one would suspect given how often they're spoken of in that way.  I propose that we do away with the discussion entirely until someone has something original and worthwhile to say about it.  Lord knows it won't be me.

Although there's a surprisingly good chance that it will be D-Roc.

"Lost chips on Lakers, gassed off Shaq"

Explanation: Biggie bet that the Lakers would win, but, as they didn't, he lost some moolah.  Thus, Shaq, who was chiefly responsible for the Lakers' success or failure at the time when Biggie released this song, has him "gassed," or exhausted by his failure to make him money.

Awkwardness of Reference: This is probably the least awkward reference I've reviewed so far.  Biggie seamlessly weaves his gambling failures with descriptions of expensive meals and leisurely recreation.  Although I have no idea how one plays tennis while on horseback.  5 of 5.

Cleverness of Reference: Aside from the somewhat obfuscate use of slang, there's nothing particularly clever about this line.  Even the rhymes with which it is connected are especially inspired.  2 of 5.

Appropriateness of Reference: During the 1996-1997 season, Shaq's first with the Lakers and the only NBA season with Shaq in gold and purple that Biggie would have witnessed, the Lakers won 56 games and made it to the second round of the NBA playoffs.  However, Shaq missed 30 games, so there were plenty of possibilities for Biggie to lose money because of him.  Since this was Shaq's only non-Kobe Lakers season, it's quite appropriate for Biggie to put the blame for a Lakers' loss on O'Neal.  5 of 5.

Shaqness of Reference: As mentioned, at the time Biggie released this song, no other player could have really been as much at fault for a Lakers loss as Shaq.  Also, Nick Van Exel is hard to fit into any rhyme scheme.  5 of 5.

I have no idea what's going on in this picture.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 17 OUT OF 20 (New high score!)

Redman: "Rockafella"

When listing hip hop's most underrated MCs, Redman is...how do I say this?...often underrated.  Because the Funk Doctor gets more props than famous-for-being-underrated rappers like AZ and Big L, people mistakenly assume that he's getting his just due.  He isn't.  Redman is a top 25 MC (and probably top 15) who is usually treated with the same respect and admiration given to not-at-all peers like E-40, Scarface, and the guys from Mobb Deep.  If you go back and listen to Redman's entire discography, you'll find an intelligent, talented MC who you'll feel bad for not having though better of.

Redman was integral in my own maturation as a hip-hop head.  As an Eminem devotee, I was shocked when, in his infamous list of great MCs in "'Till I Collapse," he lists Redman first.  At that point, I only knew Red as the OTHER half of the tandem who made Blackout!, an inferior version of his partner, Method Man.  In fact, I didn't even know who Em was referring to when he said "Reggie."  At the time, I was basically a disciple of lyricism; if you weren't rhyming with intense internal and multi-syllabic rhymes, I didn't have much respect for you.  I loved Nas and didn't understand what the big deal was when it came to Biggie.  I couldn't stand anything from the West Coast prior to 1994.  Redman, who himself combines well-crafted lyricism with a one-of-a-kind flow and an infusion of funk, helped me to understand that there are more aspects of a MCing than just lyricism.  He also taught me how to roll a blunt because I'm white.

"Standin' tall like Shaq, / honey I'm back, this ain't Blue Chips."


Explanation: Redman will not back down from anyone, hence this use of the figurative phrase "standing tall," which makes him similar to the literally tall Shaquille O'Neal.  He has also returned from his musical absence since his last album, much like Shaq returned to a screen near you when you accidentally rented a copy of the Nick Nolte-lead sports film Blue Chips mistakenly thinking it was that Martin Lawrence movie where he pretends to be a cop.

No, not that one.

Awkwardness of Reference: How dare you.  Redman is never awkward.  Besides, the song has mad NBA references in it.  4 of 5.

Cleverness of Reference: Doc's a pretty clever guy, but Shaq references are rarely a great vehicle for expressing that.  On the other hand, hey, Blue Chips reference.  3 of 5.

Appropriateness of Reference: Shaq's pretty tall, I guess.  I don't fully understand the Blue Chips reference because I don't really like sports movies (other than The Mighty Ducks!), but I imagine it makes sense.  4 of 5.

Shaqness of Reference: Shaq's not the only tall NBA player ever (no, really!), but he is one of the very few to be in Blue Chips.  Of course, Penny Hardaway was in that movie too, but no one wants to have think about Penny Hardaway's career these days.  3 of 5.

Of course I loved this show as a child.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 14 OUT OF 20

Snoop Dogg: "Pimp Slapp'd"

After spending last week talking about non-rappers and novelty acts, I've decided that this week's entries will only feature MCs who are top 50 all-time.  You know, just to clear our heads.

Snoop Dogg's place in rap is somewhat complicated.  His appearances on Dre's The Chronic combined with his debut album, Doggystyle, cemented his legacy as one of the West Coast's most original voices, but his career since then has been fairly unremarkable.  Though Snoop has a hit every two or three years, he hasn't really made any consistently good music since his first album, meaning that he has about two album's worth of decent material total (and that includes his wonderful but entirely superfluous redo of "La-Di-Da-Di", as well as my unfounded affection for "Batman & Robin").  Snoop has never been a particularly strong lyricist and, with an unconscionable 11 albums and 21 mixtapes to his credit (as well as several hundred features), few MCs can approach his vast collection of filler-rap.

And his filler-TV-show numbers are off the charts...

All that said, Snoop remains one of hip-hop's great hook-crafters and his style (though it devolved into parody after approximately two years) is one of rap's most recognizable.  Doggystyle is still a great record, maybe the West Coast Gangsta movement's finest achievement, and Snoop deserves lots of credit for helping to form the framework for West Coast rap in the early 90s.

One of Snoop's proudest moments is "Pimp Slapp'd," a diss record aimed at infamous Death Row Records CEO Suge Knight.  Though he's a bit of a punchline now (both literally and figuratively), Suge was rap's most feared man in the 90s, to the point where it was entirely conceivable (though not at all demonstrable) that he was linked to 2pac's murder.  By the time the 00s rolled around, Death Row was going bankrupt and people were a little less cautious about tossing Suge's name around.  Still, it wasn't until Snoop, a former Death Row member and person-whose-address-is-doubtlessly-in-Suge-Knight's-phone, released this diss track unscathed that the rap world realized that Suge was now harmless.

Also, Rick Ross cites Suge Knight as his fashion muse.

Okay, so some of that stuff I just made up.  I'm trying to form a narrative, people!  Regardless, "Pimp Slapp'd" is a fantastic song.  Here's our Shaq line:

"In the paint playin' post / I back ya down like Shaq-Daddy / and bust ya out your new Caddy."


Explanation: Like Shaq backing down a helpless defender in the post, Snoop uses his strength and superior masculinity to overwhelm Suge, allowing him to force him out of his newly-purchased Cadillac automobile via gunfire.  I think?

Awkwardness of Line: One of Snoop's great strengths is that, due to his ultra-smooth delivery, none of his lines ever sound awkward, even though they almost always are.  That's how he's gotten away with all of those terrible songs over the years.  4 of 5.

Cleverness of Line: One of Snoop's great weakness is that he's never been a particularly clever lyricist.  This line is no exception, although I like that he called Shaq "Shaq-Daddy," adding to the interminable list of Shaq nicknames that already ranges from Superman to Diesel to The Big Aristotle to Kazaam.  Just kidding.  2 of 5.

Appropriateness of Line: With Suge nearing bankruptcy and cultural irrelevance, it wouldn't seem unfair to say that he could be muscled around by a pop icon like Snoop, even as Snoop's own relevance has waned in the 00s.  Which is to say that this line would be quite appropriate if it didn't also assume that the poverty-stricken Suge owned a new Cadillac, which he likely couldn't have afforded.  3 of 5.

Shaqness of Line: Though all post players engage in the acting of backing their opponent down, few were ever as effective at it as Shaq in his prime.  At the peak of his powers, Shaq could move the toughest defender wherever he wanted on the court due to his extreme size and strength.  3 of 5.

Regular-sized Aristotle, for comparison.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 12 OUT OF 20

Lil' Bow Wow: "Get Up"

The early-00s was an interesting time for rap.  All kinds of exciting new rappers were emerging, future top 25 MCs were solidifying their legacies, and many new trends were being birthed, none more pause-worthy than the sudden fascination with child rappers.  For the record, the only good child rapper ever has been Shyheim and I only say that because I'm Wu Tang for life, word is bond.  Lil' Bow Wow was this questionable trend's most successful product, going double platinum at the age 13, starring in a bunch of terrible movies, and making his own song about basketball which, despite being just no good at all, managed to be very popular and have Professional Rapper Fabolous on it.

Just because you can't be tried as an adult doesn't mean you can make terrible movies with impunity, kid.

Despite those credentials, Lil' Bow Wow totally sucks in every way, and his attempts to be taken seriously by removing the "Lil'" from his name have done nothing to modify that ineffable truth.  "Get Up," off of his second album (confusingly titled Doggy Bag) is a fine example of Lil' Bow Wow at his wackest, claiming that no one has a track record like he does or stacks paper in the same manner and generally making a convincing argument that he is to rap what Rebecca Black is to pop.

Seriously, in what way are his music videos any less embarrassing and terrible than "Friday"?

"Don't step in my rim. / I'm like Shaq, young man, don't step in my gym."

Explanation: I have no idea what the bit about the rim means (although he does sit on top of a basketball rim in the video for "Basketball" if I remember correctly, so maybe he means it literally?"), but he's basically just saying that you can't step in his area due to how fresh he is or something.

Awkwardness of Reference: I never know if it's fair to penalize perpetually awkward rappers for lines which are characteristic of their overall ineptness.  Yes, this is an awful and clumsy bit of rhyming, but not extraordinarily so by Lil' Bow Wow standards and certainly not the nadir of the song.  So should it get a decent rating based on a graded Lil' Bow Wow curve or should it be judged against the rich history of hip-hop NOT made by talentless adolescents?  I still haven't decided, so this one gets a 2 of 5 because the line still sucks, yo.

Cleverness of Reference: Same struggle here, but I'm more willing to be harsh with this one.  Terrible lines by terrible rappers are sometimes less-than-awkward because they don't have that "out of place" vibe that really makes a bad line awkward, but not-clever is just not-clever.  And this line is not clever. 1 of 5.

Appropriateness of Reference: Ultimately, Shaq probably wouldn't want you hanging around in his gym, since he was, at the time of this song's composition, a professional basketball player, so this line would score pretty highly in this category if it wasn't for the fact that a 15 year-old just called me "young man."  Shut the hell up, Lil' Bow Wow.  0 of 5.

Shaqness of Reference: This line could literally apply to any professional basketball player and, since Lil' Bow Wow's film Like Mike features nearly twenty NBA players (from Gary Payton to Chris Webber to Desmond Mason to REGGIE THEUS) and Shaq is not among them, I can't imagine why LBB decided to make Diesel his NBA shout-out.  1 of 5.

This is probably why Kidd never won a title with the Nets...

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 4 OUT OF 20

Maino: "I'm About Cream"

Maino is the guy who did the song "All the Above."  That's literally all you or anyone else knows about him, which is perfectly okay because he's mediocre in every way.

This is usually the part where I go off on some sort of sort-of related topic, gracing everyone with my brilliance and wit.  But I don't really know anything about Maino except for that he did the song "All the Above," which isn't very good but makes for a nice soundtrack to basketball highlight mixes on Youtube.

Also, I'm pretty sure that in this song he says that for the right price he'd "be in my house like dog gas."  The Internet refuses to reveal what the actual line is, so I'm just gonna assume he said "dog gas."  It would be the most interesting thing about him.

As an owner of two dogs, I can tell you that canine flatulence is no laughing matter.

"I feel 8 feet tall, man.  I'm Shaq O'Neal."


Explanation: I think you can do your own exegetical work here.


Awkwardness of Line: Maino is boring, but he isn't particularly awkward, here or anywhere else.  So, whatever, I guess it's not awkward.  This post sucks.  3 of 5.

Cleverness of Line: The line itself isn't really that clever, but he does rhyme "Shaq O'Neal" with "Batmobile," which is kind of dope.  3 out of 5.

Appropriateness of Line: Shaq is about 7'1, according to all of the best sources (Wikipedia and Yahoo Answers).  So, obviously, if Maino was 8 feet tall, he wouldn't be Shaq.  Basketball players who were actually 8 feet tall include Libyan national player Suleiman Ali Nashnush and Soviet national player Alexander Sizoneko.  Obviously, being that tall is not really an advantage and both men suffered the kind of health problems you'd expect from human beings who were 8 feet tall.  Also, rhyming their last names would be HELL.  1 out of 5.

Shaqness of Line: Shaq is nowhere near the tallest NBA player in history, being out-talled by players from Manute Bol to the notorious Shawn Bradley to, of course, Yao Ming.  All of these players are closer to eight feet than Shaq, so this line is a huge fail in that regard.  0 of 5.

Say what you want about him, but Shawn Bradley was in  Space Jam and you weren't.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 7 OUT OF 20

John Cena: "Don't F With Us"

I'm not ashamed to admit that John Cena is a little after my time as a pro wrestling fan.  You're probably thinking to yourself that I should be ashamed to have "pro wrestling fan" on my One-Time Accurate Epithets resume at all, but I don't regret a second of my near-six year obsession with pro wrestling which lasted from WCW's Fall Brawl in 1997 to somewhere around Wrestlemania 19, except for that one time I left a Monday Night Raw early and missed the chance to see a WWF World Heavyweight Title change hands in person.  Ugh.  Haunted me for years.

Damn you, Stone Cold.

From what I remember having caught the very, very beginning of Cena's career, he's a wrestler who's also a very mediocre rapper.  And that's pretty much his gimmick, as far as I know.  Wrestling doesn't have to be complicated, folks.  It doesn't always have to be "Triple H bringing up the time Kane had sex with a dead woman by filming a video of him pretending to be Kane having sex with a dead woman."  This happened.  And then I continued to watch wrestling for another 3 years.

Leave it to the Internet to bring this revolting memory from my late adolescence to your computer screen.  Maybe we should vote for SOPA.

Regardless of the WWF/WWE's sordid history of visual necrophilia puns (or maybe BECAUSE OF IT?!?!), John Cena has become pretty popular I hear.  Popular enough for me to see his likeness on kid's sized t-shirts at Walmart and for him to pop-up in non-wrestling commercials from time to time.  I imagine part of his popularity has to do with wrestling's mostly white, middle-class fan base because the white middle class loves rap, and, since John Cena isn't a real rapper but rather a caricature of one, he is palatable to even the most hardcore rap hater.  You know, like Curt Hennig.

I promise, that's the last obscure wrestling reference of this entry.  Maybe.

In 2005, John Cena came out with a rap album on the heels of his success as a pretend rapper.  In an act of total justice and respect for the hard work and lifelong dedication that it takes to be a successful MC, America shunned the novelty r...wait, no, it debuted at #15 on the Billboard 200, making it three times as successful as any of Big L's albums.  Sigh.  The following line is from the song "Don't F With Us":

"Shoes on the whip that be bigger than Shaq's feet."

Explanation: The rims (shoes) on John Cena's car (whip) are larger than those which Shaq wears.

Awkwardness of Line: Honestly, Cena's album doesn't contain a lot of awkward lines.  The raps in it are so generic that they could have been manufactured from a Lloyd Banks Mad Lib, but they aren't awkward.  Just boring.  So, so boring.  At least that's better than being terrible, right?  3 out of 5.

Appropriateness of Line: Shaq's feet are about 15 inches long.  The most modest of rapper rims are 20 inches, although these days that's poor-man stuff.  Still, that's a pretty sizable gap, so it's not really that impressive that Cena's rims are bigger than Shaq's feet.  After all, that could still be true if he had 16s! 2 out of 5.

Cleverness of Line: What Cena's album lacks in head-shaking awfulness, it more than makes up for in the total and complete absence of artfulness, talent, or cleverness.  This line (and all of the others on the album, really) display a level of rap skill which one can only describe as Kinkadeian.  Cena can rhyme multi-syllabically, but he can't make me care about it.  1 out of 5.

Shaqness of Line: Though Shaq does indeed have famously large feet, anyone from Yao Ming to George Mikan could have been used here.  Nothing especially Shaq-ish about it.  1 out of 5.

This painting is called "A Peaceful Retreat," which sounds an awful lot like Thomas Kinkade trying to bait people into making fun of him.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 7 OUT OF 20

Missy Elliott: "Wake Up"

It is my contention that Missy Elliott represents Lady Gaga's future.  This may seem a bit crazy right now with Missy more than six years removed from cultural relevance and Lady Gaga at the top of the pop game and the winner of five (five?) Grammys.  And, I'll admit, Lady Gaga has gone higher than Missy ever did, even at her peak.  But the shoe still fits.  Both are artists who ultimately have no demonstrably extraordinary music-related talent: neither can sing, neither can rap, and both are decent but not world-changing dancers.  Both gained their popularity due mostly to the one-two punch of excellent production/hook-writing and time-stoppingly wonderful music videos.

Yes, those are tiny back-up dancers on the top of that building.

Though both are timeless in their own ways (neither Missy's old school swag nor Lady Gaga's meat dress will be any more or less out of place in twenty years than they were in their prime), neither will make a lasting imprint on American music.  Yes, Missy came out with some awesome club songs and spit to some of the best beats of Timbaland's career.  But it's 2012 and you probably haven't heard Missy's name since...what?...2005?  It's going to be the same with Lady Gaga in 2020 because, at the end of the day, neither she nor Missy have any talents to carry them once the well of catchy hooks has dried up.  Of course, it's possible that the well will never dry up for Lady Gaga, just like it's possible that Missy will make a huge comeback with her next album, due out in 2012.  But I wouldn't count on it.

Anyway, here's the line, from the song "Wake Up," which came out back when Missy was hot enough to get a Hova feature on one of her tracks:

"Hip-Hop, be my life-saver / like Kobe and Shaq if they left the Lakers."


Um.  What?

Awkwardness of Reference: Look.  I didn't try to explain this line for a reason.  Not only is it, like most Missy lines, awkward in composition, it simply doesn't make any sense.  Kobe and Shaq would not be life-savers if they left the Lakers, unless they went to med school.  They would be hurting the Lakers.  Because they were the marquee players for that team at the time.  I have no idea what Missy's talking about, but she doesn't have a smooth enough flow to disguise the fact that this is a terrible, incoherent line.  0 out of 5.

Cleverness of Reference: I briefly tried to convince myself that I simply didn't understand the simile Missy was trying to employ here.  Then I realized that no one understands it because it's a non sequitar.  0 out of 5.

Appropriateness of Reference: Of all of the categories, this may be the one which this awful line least fits in.  This line is NOT appropriate.  It's the exact opposite of appropriate.  0 out of 5.

Shaqness of Reference: Well...um.  Technically, if you were going to mention Lakers in the early 00s, Kobe and Shaq were the ones to name-drop.  So that's there.  On the other hand, Shaq doesn't make sense in this line, so the reference would be more befitting another player who played for the Lakers at the time but was terrible, like Maurice Carter.  We'll compromise.  2.5 out of 5.

This is the only picture of Maurice Carter on the Internet.  I considered just using a picture of Trevor Ariza because I knew you wouldn't notice.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 2.5 OUT OF 5

Kuniva: "Get My Gun"

Confession: D12 used to be my favorite rap group.  I even owned an eBay-purchased D12 chain, complete with fake diamonds.  I wore it to school, but I tucked it in the hallways because I didn't want to get beaten up by black people who thought I was mocking their culture.  Racism was easier to justify when I was 16.

Yeah, it looked just like that.

I've since come to realize that D12 isn't the most talented group of lyricists the rap gods ever assembled, but my fondness for them remains, to the point where I've listened to all of Bizarre's albums in their entirety.  Cole world.

Of the members of D12's most recent incarnation (including Proof but minus Bugz), Kuniva is the 4th best rapper, ranking behind Eminem, Proof, and Kon Artis.  Sure, the group only includes six members, but at least he's better than Swifty McVay, right?

He really isn't demonstrably better than Swifty McVay.

Anyway, the song "Get My Gun" appears on D12's second album, D12 World.  Here's Kuniva's line:

"You keep shooting at me and missing like Shaq's free-throws."

Explanation: Nothing too confusing here.  Shaq is a notoriously poor free throw shooter, and, apparently, Kuniva's assailants are equally poor at shooting him, much like anyone who has ever shot at James Bond ever.

More like "Agent Who Barely Needs to Move to Escape Gunfire."  Am I right?

Awkwardness of Reference: This one comes pretty much out of nowhere, to the point where it seemed like Kuniva realized he had never referenced Shaq and squeezed it in at the last moment.  2 out of 5.

Cleverness of Reference: Though it does rhyme multi-syllabically with the lines which precedes it, this line is not very clever at all.  Learning the difference between rappers who can compose multi-syllabic rhymes frequently and rappers who can compose good multi-syllabic rhymes frequently is the first step in recovering from D12 being your favorite rap group.  2 out of 5.

Appropriateness of Reference: Statistically, Shaq shot slightly better than 50% from the free-throw line.  While that's pretty terrible by basketball standards, 50% is pretty good by shooting-at-people standards.  If you were being shot at, I think you'd want better odds of avoiding being hit than that.  1 out of 5.

Shaqness of Reference: No one--NO ONE--in NBA history is as famous for his poor free-throw shooting as Shaq.  Though he never came close to Ben Wallace's unfathomable .418, Shaq missed enough free-throws to be the go-to reference for lack of focus and fundamentals at the charity stripe.  4 out of 5.

Wallace stuffing Shaq's dunk remains one of the best playoff blocks in NBA history.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE: 9 OUT OF 20

Nas: "It Ain't Hard to Tell"

Depending on who you listen to, Nas' debut album Illmatic is either the number one or number two rap album of all-time, swapping spots on different lists with Public Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.  To me, listening to it makes me feel a lot like I felt while watching Orson Welles' Citizen Kane; at no point during the process did I say to myself "This is the epitome of what this particular artform should be," but both Welles' film and Nas' album are essentially flawless ,and, until something better comes along, I can't rank anything higher in their respective categories.

Anyway, I'm not here to talk about Nas, whose up-and-down career has been dissected by anyone and everyone with a voice and a love for hip-hop.  Suffice to say, Illmatic is the best rap album ever made, several of his later albums were very good and several were extremely boring, and he's doing important work now with his untitled album (which I consider to be his second-best) and songs like "Nasty."  Every once in a while you'll hear someone gush over a new Nas song and say things like "the King of New York is back!", but it's never the song you liked the most off that album.  I think everyone wants something different from Nas.  Illmatic suceeds as a hip-hop record on so many different levels that there's no way for Nas to please everyone who liked it at the same time without making the same record again.  To put myself out there, I worship at the altar of the great lyricists, idolizing Big Daddy Kane, Rakim, Big L, GZA, Big Pun, Eminem, late-Canibus, early Jay-Z, and the like.  Nas is on that list too (along with your favorite lyricist, who I shamefully forgot to include), and "It Ain't Hard to Tell" is a good example of why.

So, let's look at the line itself:

"I kick a skill like Shaquille holds a pill."

What?

Explanation: Nas compares his effortless ability to murder flows to Shaq's effortless handling of a basketball ("pill").  With an 11-inch hand...span?...Shaq holds a basketball like you hold a golf ball.  It's supposedly the major reason he can't shoot free throws (aside from his total indifference to improving his FT percentage, that is).

And now, let's rank Nas' line using totally arbitrary criteria!

Awkwardness of Reference: In a song that also shouts-out Medusa and the Iron Sheik, Nas' self-comparison to Shaq seems almost too normal.  4 out of 5 (in non-awkwardness...I guess it's a reverse scale?)

Cleverness of Refence: Illmatic is nothing if not extraordinarily clever.  This line, though, isn't particularly indicative of that, although Nas gets props for internally rhyming Shaq's real first name.  3 out of 5.

Appropriateness of Reference: As I already pointed out, Nas is talking about how effortlessly Shaq holds a basketball.  Makes total sense.  5 out of 5.

Shaqness of Reference: Yes, Shaq is well known for his size.  But this line could have easily been spoken about any number of over-sized NBA centers.  In order to score high points in Shaqness, a reference must be specifically applicable to Shaq and Shaq alone.  2 out of 5.

FINAL SHAQ SCORE:  14 OUT OF 20

Why Shaq?

Though hated by many in the rap community, Canadian sweater-core rapper Drake had a point when he said in "Thank Me Now": "I swear sports and music are so synonymous / 'cause we wanna be them and they wanna be us."  Rappers have been fantasizing about being ballers since Kurtis Blow's 1984 NBA ode "Basketball," and the trend has only grown as the world's most prestigious basketball league has produced more superstars.

Ultimately, despite Kurtis Blow's loving tribute to Adrian Dantley and Hurt'Em Bad's "NBA Rap" (which actually predates Blow's song by two years), the Golden Age didn't produce much memorable NBA-related material.  In part this can be attributed to the fact that Golden Age rap focused more on things like positivity and pretty girls and boogers (I see you, Biz Markie!), but I think it's mostly attributable to the fact that the NBA in the 80s was the last era of team-first professional basketball in the United States.  As the 90s began and Michael Jordan started racking up championships, the NBA slowly became more about image than anything else.  While the NBA was becoming more star-focused, hip hop was becoming grittier, more aggressive, and, yes, perhaps also more star-focused.  The dawn of the modern era of rap begins, depending which coast you live on, either in the late 80s with the emergence of the N.W.A. or in the early 90s with records like Ready to Die, Illmatic, and Enter the Wu (36 Chambers).

Interestingly enough, at the very time period when both rap and the NBA were solidifying into what they are today (that is, somewhere in between 1990-1994) a twenty-year old center out of LSU was emerging as one of the sports world's biggest (both literally and figuratively) stars.  Shaquille O'Neal won the NBA Rookie of the Year award in the 1992-1993 season after being drafted number one overall the previous year.  After four years (and one Eastern Conference Championship) with the Orlando Magic, Shaq moved to Los Angeles to join the Lakers and quickly grew to be both the champion and media epicenter that we know him as today.  Shaq's larger than life personality and tremendous success are important reasons why he has become rap's most-referenced baller, but the most likely explanation is the fact that his career rise was almost perfectly coincident with the growth of modern hip-hop.

It seems odd that Shaq should be ahead of Jordan in this (or any category), but it makes sense.  Jordan's career was over before the 90s were and his curious decision to play baseball for a season may have made it hard to choose him as a representative of the dedicated lyricist.  His grim, calculated drive to succeed made it harder to relate to him than Shaq, forever personable, star of silly movies and entertaining interviewee.  Two more factors may also help explain the rap world's preference for Shaq: First, to put it bluntly, his name rhymes with a lot of things.  It's really easy to incorporate it into a line seamlessly, especially since it's only one syllable.  Heck, it even rhymes with my name.  Secondly, Shaq remains the only NBA personality with a not-complete-failure-of-a-rap-career.  Boasting a D-plus/C-minus flow and a dedicated public following, Shaq managed to release four (FOUR!) rap albums between 1993 and 1998.  These weren't ignored or never-released Allen Iverson vanity projects either.  Shaq Diesel went platinum and was almost entirely produced by Erick Sermon.  Shaq Fu: Da Return featured guest appearances from Redman, RZA, Method Man, Warren G, and Keith Murray.  You Can't Stop the Reign had three of the top 10 MCs of all-time on it as features: Jay-Z, Rakim, and Biggie.  Respect went to number EIGHT on the Hip-Hop/R&B charts.  I'm not saying has had a more successful rap career than Memphis Bleek, I'm just saying it's closer than it should be.  Shaq even recorded a song with Michael Jackson, which is surely causing Kanye to turn in his pre-made, Egyptian-cotton-lined, Twitter-capable, $74 million coffin at this very moment.  By the time Jordan retired as the undisputed Greatest Basketball Player of All-Time, Shaq was wrapping up his career as the Greatest NBA Rapper of All-Time.

All of this leads me to the creation of this blog, which is dedicated to documenting mentions of Shaq in rap songs.  I've realized that rappers from every movement, geographic location, and era (except the Golden Age, of course) have shouted-out Shaq, so it's going to be a diverse list.