OC lyrics
OC lyrics
"Dangerous (Remix) Lyrics"
Just An Old Boyfriend Lyrics
I see you on the street My broken heart still skips a beat I hear your name Inside I go insane Baby each day that we don't touch Is one more day it hurts too much I can't forget the love that we made But there'll come the moment that we're gonna meet again Baby it won't even bother me Trying to make it to the day you'll be Just an Old Boyfriend Won't be thinking of you every night We'd be wishing we could only try Won't tear me up inside Just An Old Boyfriend Anyone can see the love we killed is killing me I'm just so sad too lose what we had - Oh yeah There's no doubt that I should be ok by now But I'm not there yet: It hurts me so bad but <
I see you on the street My broken heart still skips a beat I hear your name Inside I go insane Baby each day that we don't touch Is one more day it hurts too much I can't forget the love that we made But there'll come the moment that we're gonna meet again Baby it won't even bother me Trying to make it to the day you'll be Just an Old Boyfriend Won't be thinking of you every night We'd be wishing we could only try Won't tear me up inside Just An Old Boyfriend Anyone can see the love we killed is killing me I'm just so sad too lose what we had - Oh yeah There's no doubt that I should be ok by now But I'm not there yet: It hurts me so bad but <
f/ Fatman Scoop, Lord Tariq & Peter Gunz
* send corrections to the typist
[Intro: Fatman Scoop]
Yeah yeah yeah yeah what's up my niggaz
This is Fatman Scoop
Holdin' this down right here for my man O.C
Harlem World and Brooklyn this town few
O.C. is "makin' money"
Peter Gunz is "makin' money"
Lord Tariq is "makin' money"
Fatman Scoop is "makin' money"
[Verse 1: O.C.]
I was on a ball court where niggaz sold crills
In park jams at night with guns made plus spill
Let me set the scene Bushwick cold, caught after dark
Where .22 hand guns were bucked, now
Thrust this back in, with rock shocks is emquiddish
Never tan, wannabe Clarks stay with the shitted
Cadi Coupdeville '79 heroin game was strong
Heavy hitters with gold chains on
Nowadays I always make niggaz into vultures (Blow)
Another young nigga stiff like a sculpture
Pen in the holster, no more o' that, niggaz I twist back
You it for what you said in the rap
Yo it's a shame, with all the bad shit tainted enough
Lust, murder, deceat, hate life is dangerous
[Chorus: Fatman Scoop]
Yeah, yeah
NYC is "makin' money"
And the boys in LA is "makin' money"
All the cats in DC is "makin' money"
My crew in Norfolk is "makin' money"
My team in Atlanta is "makin' money"
All the cats in Detroit is "makin' money"
All my boys in NC is "makin' money"
My home-team in Miami is "makin' money"
[Verse 2: Lord Tariq]
Twelve thousand a day now that's less
Fuck these fakes I'm the Lord
You might've seen me on the ad
"lunch and whip old george"
Contemplatin' spots some veteran Bronx blocks
Even doin' hand to hand tryin' to triple my grand, and
The money came quick, rumor has it that a fiend
Just died of my shit, they all bought the hit
Eighty bottles a day kept the momses away
But now we monsters, on city island
We crackin lobsters with a good time investor
Talkin in codes we sippin mexican si?stas learnin the roads
And he expect, me was the best from the stories I told
And how my block generated more money than gold
Time related, but innovated, bound to grow old
And how the New York blocks made, my warm heart cold
Ain't no time to foe the nigga said he got bricks
Goin once goin twice, nigga sold
Cornbread Lyrics
Featuring Aceyalone] where in the hell did the hip hop go? where in the hell did the hip hop go? where in the hell did the hip hop go? yo Aceyalone do ya know do ya know? well here we go hot cake dough? jellybeans banjo candy store polka dot backpack microphone shamalama ding dong doggie bone chippeechippa chop bust a flip flop skateboard tennis shoes ice cream shop telephone poles bakin' hot rolls a '91 pinto sittin' on Vogues bubble gum tick tock hound dog fleas cock-a-doodle doo-doo and some hog head cheese leap out the room grab the old broom eat a watermelon and walk on the moon cherry coke canteloupe little old
[Chorus: Fatman Scoop]
All my shout out cats is "makin' money"
My peoples from the Bay is "makin' money"
All my cats in DA is "makin' money"
And my team from Houston is "makin' money"
What the deal yeah
[Verse 3: Peter Gunz]
You cowards like to boast but I ain't seen no pause of the mu-lah
You talkin that tough shit, you new niggaz is cool-ah
My man got about two hundred mill in the trunk
And a third of that will be in my bank in about a month
I'm the part of the Bronx with provejects cheques in a
I'm in the back enhance sippin Baileys gettin ben-ah
I fiend in negativity you playin them games
Stop beatin around the bush nigga say my name
I, Peter Gunz, slash the Bronx top ten
I gun a bitch off and slice his dick up in her friend
I reach for the nine to blind niggaz if they hit it
You can have twenty mill in the bank and still get it
Like; up your back and around your neck (Whoo-haa)
That's all I hear when I'm wavin my tec
Motherfucker bullshittin I'm hittin the bangin switches
And I got a gang of ritches for all you stinkin bitches
[Chorus: Fatman Scoop]
All my cats out of Queens is "makin' money"
My team from Harlem Wor
Tryin' To Matter Lyrics
I'm a lonely man with a lonely life A full-time job and part-time wife And the grindstone just goes on and on You're a lonely girl that's a lonely wife Gotta three bedroom and an empty life And you're not quite sure Just where it all went wrong There are lots of reasons why we should turn and walk away But there's a whole lot ridin' on this love so baby what's ya say Let's give it one good shot Let's really give it all we got We can take it nice and slow Baby don't you want to go back Where we had a chance And we danced our dance In a world where a heart could never shatter We might go down cryin' But at least our love will die Tryin' to matter, tryin' to matterld is "makin' money"
Yeah my Boogie Down Bronx is "makin' money"
All my peoples from Brooklyn is "makin' money"
[Verse 4: O.C.]
I be that slick kid, with gold teeth
Shinin of ya forehead, beef?
I don't think you want it, chief
I'm O.C. swing fly, dialog like Tarzan
Swamming like Shazamm on this year jam
Kinda mint like Zush, I'm a Prince like Shaka Zulu
With the hair on my Bronx, beatin me fruits
Me, blessin this joint is like God
And writin a New Testament
Didn't see me writin it is the evidence
I, I exhault til rappers forfeit
Mouth like I battle words, bust like a four-fifth
Brings you a tenner when I send a slug to ya midriff
Hands up for you poppin that shit
Now if I miss six shots 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 niggaz that's Dangerous, what
[Outro: Fatman Scoop]
Yeah without adoubt O.C. Worldwide Megalive
London, Amsterdam, Denmark, Japan
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
I'm a lonely man with a lonely life A full-time job and part-time wife And the grindstone just goes on and on You're a lonely girl that's a lonely wife Gotta three bedroom and an empty life And you're not quite sure Just where it all went wrong There are lots of reasons why we should turn and walk away But there's a whole lot ridin' on this love so baby what's ya say Let's give it one good shot Let's really give it all we got We can take it nice and slow Baby don't you want to go back Where we had a chance And we danced our dance In a world where a heart could never shatter We might go down cryin' But at least our love will die Tryin' to matter, tryin' to matter
Yeah my Boogie Down Bronx is "makin' money"
All my peoples from Brooklyn is "makin' money"
[Verse 4: O.C.]
I be that slick kid, with gold teeth
Shinin of ya forehead, beef?
I don't think you want it, chief
I'm O.C. swing fly, dialog like Tarzan
Swamming like Shazamm on this year jam
Kinda mint like Zush, I'm a Prince like Shaka Zulu
With the hair on my Bronx, beatin me fruits
Me, blessin this joint is like God
And writin a New Testament
Didn't see me writin it is the evidence
I, I exhault til rappers forfeit
Mouth like I battle words, bust like a four-fifth
Brings you a tenner when I send a slug to ya midriff
Hands up for you poppin that shit
Now if I miss six shots 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 niggaz that's Dangerous, what
[Outro: Fatman Scoop]
Yeah without adoubt O.C. Worldwide Megalive
London, Amsterdam, Denmark, Japan
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