Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

You know what's me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin' all of slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit, you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these got a set of them thangs

Where if you wearin' a three-piece suit, you gotta gang bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to
And starin' like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they wallets in the

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a down the middle
Snake skin my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I don't the package of crack

So what's the for the dirty looks?
Yo, my name in your books
Seem every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of air
I end up up a questionnaire

"What's your name?" "Where goin?"
"Yo, what are you from?"
tell me "Don't get smart" and so I play dumb
'Cause when I tell em I stay, it doesn't get better

Live in Central, they assume you got a jail record
A attitude
That if you like me, you gotta run with a crew
'Cause when I step upon the scene everybody's gettin'

No matter what the
(What's up?)
I'm sweated for my dress code
(Wear a shirt and tie and run the creeps)

(That's why dress just like suckers)
(Ha?)
(Suckers)
(What?)
(Suckers)

What is this, a prison? I'm off the way that I'm livin'
Seems I turn I'm assumin' the position
At school I'm tired of hearin' the same old thing
Here come the rickety security, me for my earring

I carry a gun, though they consider me a threat
I guess I got em by the way that I dress
Unlike you I couldn't afford to at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap for a fresh pair of Dickey's

So what tellin' me, is now I'm a crook
Who the book on how a kid in my position's supposed to look?
Get me a and a pair of tight pants
I get a chance with the girls who wouldn't give me a

A big funny hat just to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather might keep me out of scraps
If I made that turn, it save me some trouble
But I gotta my back, on the alert for a squabble

Don't go here, don't go there, comin' up missin'
Got a pocket of money, and I'm still getttin' dissed
'Cause it's a scam or a phase of my that I'm goin' through
If you dress like me, you gotta run a crew

I'm tickin' a time bomb, ready to explode
in my front yard
(What's up?)
I'm sweated for my dress code
(Alright, fellas, no shoes, no hats, no khakis, alright?)

Let's take a trip to the scene
(Somebody tell me goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt to dance to a funky song
Bouncers enemies for minimum wage
But they're the ones to run when the club gets sprayed

Don't wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my
And if you're sportin' gold, then you be a dope dealer
(I paid 17.50 to a funky rhyme flow
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I just entered a show)

Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my
My to the back, so I must be up to no good
(I got a on my back for the fact that I rap
And they heard I was from Compton, so they ran they back)

of me for what, no, I don't wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole it's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress, so I can look the rest?

Wearin' red, black and green, but they don't what it means
Put on a African medallion, now they're down with the
Penetratin' for a click, first wouldn't, now they switched
But they ain't rich
(Ain't a bitch?)

Go strike a GQ pose, I got in my stroll
So ban my video
(For what?)
'Cause they didn't like my code