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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

- o c lyrics

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