Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

You know what's makin' me
Day day I'm catchin' all of this slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit, unless you 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 bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to
And people starin' I had manure on my pants
they purse, checkin' they wallets in the back

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are 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 reason for the dirty
Yo, check my name in your
Seem like every I slap on my Starter cap
And for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin' up a

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

Live in South Central, they assume you got a jail
A stereotypical
That if you look like me, you run with a crew
'Cause when I step upon the scene gettin' petrol

No what 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 just 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 school I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old
Here come the security, sweatin me for my earring

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

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

A big funny lookin' hat just to my naps
A pair of patten leather shoes might me out of scraps
If I made 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, brothers comin' up
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm still dissed
'Cause it's a scam or a phase of my life that I'm goin'
If you like me, you gotta run with a crew

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

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

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

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

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

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

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