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nosy - chase n. cashe lyrics

look, i’m trapped in a grind trying to find a way out,
with raps on my mind that i got to lay down.
my hoe up in my ear and she telling me to lay down
she want this good d-ck right before i make my way out.
‘cause once i hit the door she won’t see me for a couple days,
she down and make the rounds for me, call her couple plates.
making role to the safe, put them roles in the bank,
treat me like a king but my queen man she knows she ain’t.
put my n-gg-rs on the game, put my city on my back,
put my pen up on a pad and put the lyrics on a track.
every single dollar that i’m spending bet i’ll make it back
twice up the lyrics, ‘cause they’re vivid like my life.
keep my compet-tion scratching their head just like lice,
how i went from no bars at all, are quite nice.
working hard, i’m conditioned to ball just like mike,
not the boxer, but the hooper, i’m the champ, you’re just a loser, b-tch.

nosy n-gg-rs, nosy hoes,
all up in my business, need to mind your own.
nosy n-gg-rs, nosy hoes,
asking questions about my riches, need to find your own.
nosy n-gg-rs, nosy hoes,
all up in my business, need to mind your own.
i said nosy n-gg-rs, nosy hoes,
try to get it why i fit in, but that’s how i go.

i guess everybody’s real now, everybody sips slow,
every b-tch a bad one, every n-gg-r pimp hoes,
every n-gg-r got swag, every n-gg-r ghetto,
but they know they’re lying, so they’re walking on their tip-toes.
better keep your eyes wide if i get you talking sh-t
you ain’t got to be like gucci, man, to be a walking lid.
hip hop cosby all around, why you n-gg-rs talking bricks?
even coppers know you flopping. boy, you’re just a walking st-tch.
boy, you just be talking sense, no sense in talking money too
bullsh-t talks, money walks, my earn has got me running to you.
out of sight, out of mind, out of sp-ce and out of time,
only got one life to live, so you know i’m out to grind.
fobie getting polished up, that mean i’m about to shine.
life gave me lemons so the lemonade, i make it mine.
no fifty minutes of fame, you know i gotta take my time,
rolly’ on my wrist, b-tch, i’m coming through to take what’s mine.

- chase n cashe lyrics

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