Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

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

Where if you ain't wearin' a three-piece suit, you gotta gang
I walked in a rest', to order
And people starin' like I had on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' wallets in the back

And thinkin' rob em, 'cause I'm in all black
Yo, my are cuffed with a crease down the middle
Snake around 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, check my name in books
Seem like time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of air
I end up fillin' up a

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

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

No matter the color
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress
(Wear a and tie and run with the creeps)

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

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

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

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

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

Don't go here, don't go there, comin' up missin'
Got a full 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 with a

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

Let's a trip to the club scene
(Somebody tell me what's on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just to dance to a song
Bouncers makin' enemies for minimum
But they're the first ones to run when the club sprayed

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

Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to me in my neighborhood
My hat's to the back, so I be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my back for the that I rap
And heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies back)

Scared of me for what, no, I wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole world alright to be yourself
Should I the way I dress, so I can look like the rest?

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

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