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o.c. - dangerously makin' money (street) lyrics
o.c. ft. lord tariq, peter gunz, and fatman scoop _ “dangerously makin’ money”
[emcee(s): o.c., lord tariq, and peter gunz]
[producer(s): mr. walt (of da beatminerz)]
[hook/additional vocals: fatman scoop]
[sample (multiple elements): 7th wonder _ “daisy lady” (0:01)]
[intro: fatman scoop]
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, what’s up, my ladies. the fatman scoop holding this down right here for my man o.c. harlem world and brooklyn [?]
[hook: fatman scoop and (sample with scratches by mr. walt)]
o.c. is (“making money”)
peter gunz is (“making money”)
lord tariq is (“making money”)
fatman scoop is (“making money”)
[verse 1: o.c.]
i was
on the ballpark where n_ggas sold krills
in park_jams at night where guns made blood spill. let me
set the scene: bushwick, cold park after
dark, where .22 handguns revolve now
hustlers back then would rock shark skins and british
leather, tan wallabee clarks, they were the sh_tted
caddy couple de ville, ’79, heroine
game was strong, heavy_hitters with gold chains on. nowadays
our ways made n_ggas into vultures
(blao!) another young n_gga stiff like a sculpture
gun in a holster? no more of that. n_ggas’ll
twist back your wig for what you said in a rap (yo, it’s a shame)
but all the bad sh_t tainted in us, l_st
murdered the scene. hey, life is dangerous, uh
[hook: fatman scoop and (sample with scratches by mr. walt)]
yeah, yeah
nyc is (“making money”), all my boys in
la is (“making money”), all the cats in
dc is (“making money”), [?]
[?] is (“making money”), my team in
atlanta is (“making money”), all the cats in
detroit is (“making money”), all my boys in
nc is (“making money”), my whole team in
miami is (“making money”)
[verse 2: lord tariq]
twelve thousand a day
now that’s math. f_ck these fakes. i’m the lord, you might have
seen me on the ave lunching with boy george
contemplating these spots on veteran bronx blocks
even doing hand_to_hand, trying to triple my grand—d_mn
the money came quick. rumor has it that a fiend just
died off my sh_t, and they all bought a hit. eighty
bundles a day kept the monsters away, but now we’re
mobsters on city island, we’re cracking lobsters
with a big_time investor, talking in codes, we’re sipping
mexican siestas, learning new roads, and he expressed
he was impressed from the stories i told and how
my block generated more money than gold. crime_related
but innovative, bound to grow old, and how
the new york blocks made my warm heart cold. ain’t no
time to fold. the n_gga said he got bricks going
once, going twice, n_gga, sold. sh_t
[hook: fatman scoop and (sample with scratches by mr. walt)]
all my chi town
cats is (“making money”), my peoples from
the bay is (“making money”), all my cats in
va is (“making money”), and my team from
houston is (“making money”). what the deal? yeah, yeah
[verse 3: peter gunz]
you cowards like
the ‘ross but ain’t seen no parts of the moolah
you’re talking that tough sh_t, and you n_ggas is school_ah
my man got about twenty mill’ in the trunk, and a
third of that’ll be in my bank in about a month. i
departed the bronx in a private jet shaq sent up
i’m in the back, getting head, sipping baileys, getting bent_up
i feel your negativity. you’re playing them games. stop
beating around the bush, n_gga, say my name: i
peter gunz_slash_the bronx top ten
i call a b_tch off and slide this d_ck up in her friend
i reach for the nine to blind n_ggas if they hit it. you can have
twenty mill’ in the bank and still get it like
up your back and around your neck (woo_hah!)
hah, that’s all i hear when i’m waving my tec. motherf_cker
bullsh_tting, i’m hitting and banging switches
and i got a gang of riches for all you stinking b_tches now
what?
[hook: fatman scoop and (sample with scratches by mr. walt)]
all my cats out in
queens is (“making money”), my team from
harlem world is (“making money”), yeah, the boogie down
bronx is (“making money”), all my peoples from
brooklyn is (“making money”)
[verse 4: o.c.]
i be that
sl!ck kid with gold t__th shining off your forehead
beef? i don’t think you want it, chief. i’m o.c
swing fly dialogue like tarzan
slamming like shazam on this here jam. not a myth
like zeus, i’m a prince like shaka zulu
with a harem of broads feeding me fruits, me
blessing this joint is like god’s hand writing a new
testament—you didn’t see my write it, here’s the evidence:
i high, exalted, rappers forfeit
mouth like a barrel, words bust like a four_fifth
range of antenna when i send a slug through your midriff
here a slug for you popping that sh_t. now if
i miss the next shot, you gotta deal with gunz, and if
he miss, lord tariq will cold give you the runs, but i doubt
we all miss, it’s like game for us, three
new york n_ggas that’s dangerous—what?
[outro: fatman scoop]
yeah
without a doubt, o.c. worldwide
mega live. london
amsterdam, denmark
j_pan. o.c. in the lexus land
yeah, you don’t stop
peter gunz in the house, you don’t stop
lord tariq in the house, you don’t stop
o.c. in the house, you don’t stop
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