Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

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

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

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease down the
Snake around my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I don't deal the of crack

So what's the for the dirty looks?
Yo, check my name in your
Seem like every time I on my Starter cap
And step for a of fresh air
I end up fillin' up a

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't go here, don't go there, comin' up missin'
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 dress like me, you gotta run with a

I'm like a time bomb, ready to explode
Even in my front
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my code
(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 a silk shirt just to dance to a funky song
Bouncers makin' for minimum wage
But they're the first to run when the club gets sprayed

wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my beeper
And if you're sportin' gold, then you be a dope dealer
(I 17.50 to hear a funky rhyme flow
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I entered a fashion show)

Yo, put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my neighborhood
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 heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies 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 the whole world 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 they wouldn't, now switched
But they ain't rich
(Ain't a bitch?)

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