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letra de back n a minute - corey parkman

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put my dress shoes on, tie up the knots.. yeah, the tux a little tight, but it’s the flyest they got..

then i told jack daniels, slide me a shot.. as i loosen up my tie before i lie in the box..

pullin up to thug mansion, riding with pac.. then the sight hits my eyes and they widen a lot..

he said make ya self at home boy, find you a spot.. keep in mind, dinner time’s always five on the dot..

and these boy out here got the grimiest socks.. they don’t give a d-mn if your ass whitе or you not..

so, i told, big pop! can you find me a glock?? he said, yeah, but keep a knifе, don’t rely on the shots..

yo, c0reyp!! is you riding or what?? where we going? man, nowhere, just right to the spot..

gotta pick a couple things up, minus the rocks.. i’ll even tell you a couple tricks! take you right to the top!!

that’s when the questions came.. would you fight for the block?? would you ride if your homie was behind you or not??

and if it came to it.. would you put your life in the pot?? and do you smoke weed?? nah, but i try it a lot…

and i keep it one hundred (100), i like when it’s hot.. and one o’ clock’s (1:00) always the time on the watch..

here’s your boys ten cent, i found the dime that he dropped.. you ain’t never heard c0rey p wine to the cops!!!!

then they told me i was all good, but don’t forget to duck a lot.. pun said don’t be a player, but it’s cool to “crush a lot”
b.i.g told me, keep them girls two to a guy.. please, don’t forget rule numero five!!!

pac said let me preach you something bout the world.. f-ck that ho raw, try to make a little girl..

as we let the blunt pass, laughing about.. then i gave’em dap, copped my g-pass, and i’m out!!

then i came back here just to bomb on you b-tches.. and put your mom in them ditches.. and comment on you snitches..

you think fly? boy! im’a go piranha on pigeons.. and even try to change a couple of obama’s decisions..

george bush, too!! he had the wrong intentions.. so put that race card that’s in your palm back in your britches..

before i yak in your kitchen.. you on your back, split dishes, at your calves with incisions..

like.. where the h-ll’s the mother f-ckin cash and the business.. where we stashing the witness??

n0body, bails out!! ‘til we passing the finish.. then we stack dead guys ’til there’s cracks in the ceiling..

when the president’s a girl.. i’ll be stacking them women!! boy, this track so sick you’ll take it back to beginning..

cause your puny mind couldn’t keep on track ’til the ending.. middle finger to the world, and my slacks descending..

where you headed?? to the top! i’ll be back n a minute!!!

c0rey p

- corey parkman

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