O.c.

O.c. - Story To Tell lyrics

rate me

[O.C.]

Yo, born May 13th 'round seventy-one

Vietnam was a memory before my birth

Around the time Nicky Barnes era came to a close

Too young to know yet, poppa told me later on

The place was Brook-nam, BK, NY City

Lovechild through a bond was me, so evidently

the sperm the egg joined in between my mama loins

coulda been heads or tails like, flippin a coin

Pops pull out of you here, wouldn't exist at all

If mama eggs wasn't fertile wouldn't exist at all

The creator gave a nod, I'm a gift to all

Spring child like a flower, not born in the fall

Fam came from the South but I was reared up North

Portuguese grandmother, never met her before

Pops say, I'm a mirror image of my grandpa

All I say is strong genes be the only answer

[O.C.]

Yo, ever since I was a kid I was popular

Seein my future through a pair of binoculars

From the age of single digits up until my pre-teens

Always had big dreams in mind, at the time

So young, I didn't know my callin would be a rhyme

Years later manifested in the form of a song

Playin football, quarterback, O had a arm

Two-hand touch, picture receiver goin long

A young black version of Terry Bradshaw

Older niggaz on the block attention I captured

Miraculous moves, maneuver with the ball in my palm

Precise throwin first downs, hand-offs and throwin bombs

Young Don, felt like Juan

Girls would flirt but I didn't know how to respond

Always knowin growin up I'd be a pro and not a con

Brother from another mother locked up since eighty-one

[O.C.]

Yo - I'm still a young dude, at the same time grown

Baby boy to my momma, the youngest of four

My life's no fairytale, can't call me Cinder-fella

Though life be like rain, my thoughts the umbrella

O, got it covered it's a gift not a talent

Bein bougie or corn-chip, I simply won't allow it

My aura's like, well, it's hard to describe

Let me just say I'm on the serious side

Learned lessons from my hood that I dwelled in, resided

Had my share of gettin drunk as fuck and gettin potted

Gun in my waist, if I pull it bet I pop it

Mush my nickname from a cousin I adopted

Mic the legacy's on me, I got this

Reppin when I holla, won't misuse or mock it

The word spoken is truth; the labor that I put my momma through

'til now, to her I made a promise to

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