Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

You know what's makin' me
Day after day I'm catchin' all of this
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 gang bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to
And people starin' I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' purse, checkin' they wallets in the back

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

So what's the reason for the looks?
Yo, check my name in your
Seem like every time I 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 tell me "Don't get smart" and so I play
'Cause when I tell em where I stay, it get better

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

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

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

What is this, a prison? I'm buggin' off the way that I'm
Seems everywhere I turn I'm assumin' the
At school I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old
come the rickety security, sweatin me for my earring

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

So what you're 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 with the girls who wouldn't give me a glance

A big lookin' hat just to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather shoes keep 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 up missin'
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm getttin' dissed
'Cause a scam or a phase of my life that I'm goin' through
If you like me, you gotta run with a crew

I'm like a time 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 just to dance to a funky song
makin' enemies for minimum wage
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 be a dope dealer
(I paid 17.50 to a funky rhyme flow
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 to the back, so I must be up to no good
(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 wear tux
And if I got a Grammy, man, I'd bail in some Chuck
Tailors to show the world it's alright to be yourself
Should I the way I dress, so I can look like the rest?

Wearin' red, black and green, but they don't what it means
Put on a African medallion, now down with 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 in my stroll
So ban my video
(For what?)
'Cause they like my dress code