This is a song about "Minute"

I move aim, hit 'em and final flip

Shoulda told you i'd just be a minute,

Urban inner-city ghettoes, where you've never got a minute,

Statistics say that niggas with no father ain't going to be shit

In a southern redneck trailer park where you ain't got a minute,

The little engine that could, this little nigga is good

Every minute your late goes another client

You be chickens like smokey tripping off angel dust

It's just my fate, let me chill, nah flip

Shoulda told you i'd just be a minute,

And that was hot for, hmm a minute

That white whip sit like a slight wrist slit

This my zombie circus, you better get a fuckin' ticket

Please understand my frustration and sympathize for a minute,