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Real Game

This song is by Shad, features B Green and appears on the album When This Is Over (2005).

Oh it's on
You just did it now
"Here's the tip off" okay, okay
Oh, tip,
"And this game is under way"
"He's lighting it up"!

Oh, check it out
I got the passes, I got the shots
I got it all, baby

(Let's talk about the greats, yeah)
Larry bird couldn't fly, but he never went stale
'Cause he could pass to Danny Ainge or Kevin McHale
And they rarely failed to bury the basket
Bob Cousy could pass it too, very fantastic players
With sick game but not insane
The only pistol Pete Maravich had was in his nickname
And it's a shame that the dummies on our block
Would rather bunny hop than listen to Red Auerbach

There they go again. Whenever I'm talking ball
With a white friend, he gotta pipe in
Talking 'bout, "I miss how they used to play in Cousy's day,"

Well, at least they could shoot a J

Well, ok, now, Larry Bird had a fine career
Full of jackin' ugly J's from behind his ear
Even had some militant brothers inclined to cheer
From '79 and up until his final year
But McHale was dirty, frail and nerdy
You can't even rate him on the same scale with Worthy

Put that talk in your dreams. McHale fought with Kareem
Cause Kevin sharpened his elbows and popped in the screens

Yeah, he popped his elbows and caused a swelled nose or two
But it's true didn't shoplift shell toes
Ask Chris Weber how he went and got his swell clothes in college
From his economics knowledge?

Hell no
Velcro couldn't stick closer to John Stockton
In the defensive pose. I got the poster
And no, he didn't have Malone's chest and pipes
He was the brains like Harrelson with Wesley Snipes

So, you say Stock's got the most brains
But that's just 'cause he's slow with no game, and vericose veins
Fo sho tho, now some of y'all are so so
But the last white boy I seen with a ring was Frodo
Well, Michael's got six, and Russell's got eleven
All Stock has is daisy dukes and he's a legend
To every Nazi clown in a WASPy town
Still playing in shorts shorter than Foxy Brown

You can talk about the shorts and even the jerseys
But you know you got to pass it to a whitey for a sure three

(True)

Without John Paxson, or Steve Kerr
You never would-a seen a Bulls three-peat t-shirt
And leave your Nazi talk at the station
Craig Hodges taught his kid to hate caucasians
Got a strong case and you can't deny it
Just look at the kids face in the Pacers riot

Yeah, yeah, okay I was appalled myself
But it's not like David Stern or Bill Walton helped
And there's no denying Steve Kerr could shoot the long three
But dude, c'mon B, Perdue and Longley?
Check the figures: Payton strips, tends to dishin' the rock
And Big Ben Wallace was always sick with the swats

Well, you always had a point, but now's not the time
To be bringing up the numbers when you dropped your rhymes
If you calculate the leaders, at the top you'll find
It's Kirilenko and Nash first, in blocks and dimes
Plus, it's Stock, not Payton first in all-time steals
Maybe your boys're too busy keepin' it real

(Can't argue with that)
Oh dirty
There's stuff goin' on, you don't even understand, man
Check it

Now, the man's got some plans, y'all. I'm statin' the facts
First the military's gonna say it's a draft,
But that's just so they can send LeBron James to Iraq
Then they'll lock up Abdul Rahim with the Patriot Act
See it was their game, now they plan on taking it back
And see all the Barry brothers go straight to the rack
Plus the refs always help the farm boys from the back woods
C'mon. Y'all didn't think that Nash was that good?

(I did.)

Now, officials take illegal funds to hide the stats
So, the zebras always got more white stripes then black
More White Stripes than Jack and Meg
Like, ever wonder why Stock still passed to Greg
When the ball would just smack his hand
Questions and actions have to beg
Stakes is high like De La? at the keg?
First it was one sixteenth black and that's what your race is
Now, they wanna change it to claim J. Kidd
That's clear divide and conquer, y'all so stay smart
Mike Bibby, Rick Fox and K-Mart stay dark, brothers

"Raises up!"

Shad, you're wasting you brains, no one's taking your claims
Quit rapping and grab your kicks, man; we're late for the game.
See he's the type of guy who has the stats remembered
Like how many assists Nash had last December

And I'm the type who ain't that strong with the pill
But still braggin with dominant skill with karma and will

Now Shad, I feel drained

So spit your real game
Here's one in your eye

"You'll feel pain"

Whoo!
"Jams it in"
Yeah, your mother can't dunk
My mom can dunk. My mom can dunk. She used to be able to dunk. She can touch the rim still
Oh no!
Oh!

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