Lester knows a lot of rappers, works for them, handling business matters.
After doing some shows with a few singers, Jive Records offered me a record deal.
I said I didn’t want to rap by myself, I wanted to collaborate with the artists I liked.
My first album was called "Shaq Diesel," featuring Fif Daug, Erik Sermon...
This album sold a million copies and achieved platinum sales.
The song I did with Def Jed, "I Know I Got" broke into the charts at number 35.
Recording albums isn’t easy, but I loved it.
Now I’m a basketball star, rapper, and movie star (I later starred in films too).
In "Shaq Diesel," I made fun of Larry Johnson, Greg Anthony, and Shawn Kemp.
It was fun, not personal vendetta, that’s the essence of freestyle rap.
But I didn’t dare mock Ah Gan; at the time, they wanted me to, but I didn’t.
After all, even freedom has its limits.
In the following years, I released several more albums, becoming more adept.
I learned how to record, how to sell, how to chart.
I enjoyed producing rap records and made some money from it.
But compared to my basketball salary, it’s just small change.
It was a great experience, but I wouldn’t rely on it to make a living.
The first album sold a lot, but I only got $60,000.
Because much of the money was eaten up by various things.
And because the album was so popular, those rappers started to resent my success.
They said, "You’re a professional athlete, what are you doing in our world?"
When I was about to record the second album, they’d say, "Pay me $200,000 first."
Everything became unfriendly, except for two people.
One was Jay-Z, and the other was Biggie Smalls.
Biggie Smalls was the kindest person in the world.
Ah, absolutely a master of the studio, they would be holed up in the studio all night.
Repeating and revising over and over, I always prepared my lyrics in advance, I didn’t want to waste too much of their time.
After finishing a game, I’d revise my lyrics on the plane, having Dennis Scott help me with the beats.
Biggie never casually changed my lyrics, he always said, "I don’t write lyrics."
If there were issues with the recording, he’d patiently point them out and kindly persuade me to try again.
This suited my temperament; I’d obediently go back in and do it again until satisfied.
Jay-Z was the same way, very, very professional and kind, he appeared on my third album.
Biggie was amazed at everything I had in Orlando; at that time, my house was 64,000 square feet.
He said, "One day I’ll have all of this as well, I’ll be the best."
And he certainly would; he was young, talented, ambitious. Every time I met him, I was happy.
The last time we met was on March 8, 1997, my birthday.
I had a cast on my foot, was on my way home, expected to return in April.
I was preparing for the playoffs, everyone in the Western Conference was nervous.
Because Ah Gan was back again, yes, he was back.
There was traffic on the road, Sunset Boulevard, Biggie got into a spat with someone along the way.
I happened to run into him, asked what happened, and if he needed help.
Biggie said it was nothing, just a small matter.
He knew it was my birthday today and invited me to a party that night.
I told him no problem, see you that night, we bumped fists and parted ways.
Biggie attended the Soul Train Music Awards and then went to the party at the Peterson Automotive Museum.
I was planning to go, to have a good time that night.
But I was too tired, sat down to watch TV, and fell asleep, leaving my pager in the car.
When they tried to contact me, I was snoring on the couch upstairs.
My mom found me at four in the morning, said, "Shaq, did you go to the party?"
In a daze, I said no, I didn’t know what she was talking about.
I had been dreaming, dreaming of February 11, 1992, the first time I faced Ah Gan in a game.
It was an unforgettable encounter, the first time I truly experienced what historical greatness was.
For that, I had nightmares for many years, really a lot of years.
And in 1997, he was back, like a nightmare returning.
My mother’s words pulled me back from the dream.
She continued, "Your friend was shot. He’s dead."
He died in the rap war, the killer was never found.
After Biggie left the party, he sat in the front seat of the car.
A killer drove up next to him and shot him four times.
They said it was part of the East Coast vs. West Coast rap feud, which had been going on for a long time.
Tupac Shakur, one of Biggie’s friends and rivals, died the same way—shot dead.
I usually don’t think about "what if," but after Biggie died, I spent a lot of time pondering.
If I had shown up at that party, what would have been different.
If a 7-foot-1-inch Shaquille O’Neal was standing next to that car, would that guy still shoot?
If we had been there, perhaps things would have been different.
But maybe they would’ve killed Biggie anyway.
If not that night, maybe a day or two later, or three or four days later.
The rap world is filled with violence.
Many rappers, before stepping into the rap scene, lived by the edge of the knife.
Guns and drugs were part of their everyday life.
You can’t escape it.
It’s part of their life.
When you carry groceries upstairs back to the apartment, there are guns and drugs.
When you visit your cousin, there are guns and drugs as well.
When you go play ball in the park, there are guns and drugs still.
I understand, because in Newark City, New Jersey, I saw the same scenes every day.
If you don’t stay away from it, it will ruin you.
When my fourth rap album was released, critics began to attack me.
They said, "If Shaq wasn’t a superstar, his rap albums wouldn’t sell."
That really hit the nail on the head.
Brother, what are you trying to say?
But I realized, my rap career should end.
I’ve achieved enough, two platinum records, one gold record.
And on the basketball court, I still had nothing at that time.
I should move forward, towards the championship.
Challenge that nightmare until success.
So, going back to February 11, 1992, the Orlando Magic playing the Portland Trail Blazers at home.
It was my first head-on collision with Ah Gan on the court, the start of nightmares.
To understand this, you can truly resolve everything and start anew.]
——Published in 2011, Shaquille O’Neal’s autobiography "Shaq Uncut: My Story," excerpt.