Оригинален текст
We Get that money boy
Right up out the streets
Out the streets
To my young boy
I'm a O.G.
Tens and twentys
Flying off the block
This tier looking
So good dog you thought
It was some rock
Girlies all up on my jock
Pinky ring on looking like my pop
Ones in the middle with the
Hundreds sitting on the top
Fiends on time you thought they
Working on a clock
But I ain't playing girl
You better put it in my pock
(2x)
Even if you aint my girl
Break yourself and
Give me what you got
(Chorus)
To My Young boy imam o.g
C.o.d. Cash On Delivery
I don't sell crack
And you know I don't sell weed
I sell swag that dopey
You get indicted by them dt's
Or end up like what they did to big meech
And I aint trina be like that kid be
I'm just trine C.P
Chorus